Torn Rose of Ages Past
by Inu-Angel Z
Summary: [AU][Time travel] In a distant age where Soulless rule and those who protect the surviving Hogwarts members are killed for sport, one protector is sent to the past to save the Ravenclaw Heir's life...They need her...But she's alone, this time...
1. Chapter One: New Age of Darkness

**_xx_ Torn Rose of Past Ages _xx_**

**_vvChapter One: New Age of Darkness vv  
_(Li)**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, though the OCs are mine...

Summary: -AU- In a distant age where the Soulless rule and those who practice the Light and protect the Hogwarts House Heirs are hunted like Muggle animals, one House protector is sent to the past to save the life of a long-dead Ravenclaw Heiress...

* * *

The usually homey office was deserted, the feeling of warmth gone cold, darkness only disturbed in a few feet radius around the sparse candles. It had been years since anyone had come here; its original owner was in hiding, and the students now home with their parents for a never-ending summer. 

The room was Hogwart's Headmaster's office, and the school had been disbanded since the attack four years ago. Half the enchanted castle was rubble, the other half somewhat intact, but crumbling. Only a few rooms protected by indestructible charms, such as the Room of Requirements --which had moved itself beside the Headmaster's old office-- remained.

Everything about the room was left intact, from the unknown objects to the empty pictures on the walls. The desk was dusty, still stacked with unfinished paperwork once done by Dumbledore himself, who now trained the last of his prized DA in a secret place not known to anyone but himself, the trusted Order, and his students.

Someone sighed, and clothes rustled as an old gargoyle made way for the only person it had seen in a long time. This someone had entered the grounds for reasons all their own, and anyone watching couldn't quite tell who -or what- this person was, seeing as the midnight sky cloak they wore obscured their figure from recognization.

"It's been quite a while," murmured a youthful female voice. Even though you could not see her face, she was obviously quite young, but her tone told of years of such comings and war-wary wisdom as she stalked purposefully up the narrow stairway. "I must visit more often."

Nodding to herself as if someone was there to see, the youth entered without knocking (who was there to call "Come in"?) and smiled under the shadowed hood. "Just as I left it. Maybe I should just move here, since the House was torn down..."

She spoke of the House in a spitefully rueful tone, glancing around as if looking for what she had come for. Her ironic smile turned into a wide grin as she saw a ragged old hat left to gatherdust on a wooden shelf across the room. Walking over with powerful strides, the youth picked up the patchwork hat gently, as if it could break at the slightest movement.

"Hello, Tathar. Did I keep you waiting too long?" she whispered, pulling her hood back to place the living hat in it's rightful position.

In the brief moment she exchanged the hood for a hat, you could have caught a glimpse of her features: cloudy molten-gold eyes, the left unseeing, stared out from under thick locks a shade lighter than her cloak. The hair was long and cut unevenly, so half her head was short, the other longer than her knees, many braids done some time ago separating the oddly cut strands. High cheek bones, a slight nose that accented half-lidded cat-like eyes; she was quite pretty, in a mysteriously mythical way.

Only one thing marred her near-perfect face: a thin, blue-colored scar above and below her unseeing left eye, looking much like face paint if it hadn't left a faint indent in her golden-pale completion.

'_Not at all, my dear. Quite bored with no one to sort or sing to, though,_' the Sorting Hat answered, much wanting to burst into song at that moment.

"No, no," the girl whispered chidingly, still grinning widely. "Save that for years to come. Remember anything yet, Keeper of Four House Secrets?" The last part was said in a teasing manner, seeing as the four Hogwarts founders and House namesakes had created him long ago. He knew much about them; their knowledge and power awaiting the Heirs to take. She knew this, and couldn't help but make light of his honorary position, which would have annoyed a human, but the Hat just laughed in good humor.

'_I wish the olden days were back; then I wouldn't have only you to chat with. Oh, Dumbledore's mind was much fun, but First Years are even more interesting than the old coot's._' Her influence the last few years had changed her friend from the mystical Hat who sang to a magical Hat with an attitude. The old Headmaster had just laughed the last time he'd talked to the older being, but that was two or so years ago. They didn't see each other that often anymore, since the Hat could not leave this office.

"You still do not remember? Anything at all?" the youth insisted, humorous manner gone. If he didn't know, how was she supposed to change this time of Darkness? Her persistent pursuers would find the place soon, and she knew one of them could enter the office without trouble...

Her head accessory 'hmmed' in thought for a moment, then stated stallingly, '_I seem to... remember, as you say, someone one like you trying me on... What an interesting mind she had... Went by the mental name of Auctorita, much like you, Tornaroes._'

"A name of Power..." the youth murmured, as thoughtful as her Hat.

'_Ai, a name of Power. Mental and physical strength, she had -too bad she was killed in her sixth year..._' The headgear seemed unaware of the youth's tense body and closed mind.

A moment of uneasy silence, then:

"It was _her_, wasn't it?" a flat tone. She was mentally hoping the answer was 'no'. Please don't be her, the one I've searched for so long...

'_Yes._'

A pause, then sigh as the youth's shoulders slumped considerably. "Should've known. And here I am, looking for the only one to help, and she's long dead..."

'_Who is she, to you and the rest?_' the Hat asked curiously, not able to penetrate the mental wards she'd now put in place.

"The last Heir; to Ravenclaw, the other one born in the second decade but irretrevable. Slytherin has been reborn, since the Grryffindor inheritor killed him for many a betrayal. And Hufflepuff is safely taking lessons with Madam McGonagall. Quite impressive, she as young as she is, really." The one called Tora continued to ramble on about the Three found Heirs, updating the Hat to more current events. Anything to stop _them_, she thought. She didn't need criticized right at this moment.

**_They need her... Find the lost one... They are needed... Replace the Last One..._**

Gah! Not again; not now! Cursing her mental barriers' failure, the youth was forced to listen to the voice preach in whispers and yells, all at the same time. She barely made out most of their words of advice and warning as pain shot through her inner plain.

**_You have the means... find her... the one they needed..._**

**_...the one we need..._**

**_...desperate... continue the search..._**

**_...bring her... she is needed... travel to her..._**

**_...save her..._**

**_...save them all... finish what you started... long ago..._**

**_...learn...know...grow...feel...remember..._**

**_...!FIND HER!..._**

The last was shouted, and unconsciously Tora had the sense to spare the now-concerned Sorting Hat the voices' speech. They kept demanding more and more; it wasn't her fault the last one, the only unable to reincarnate, was long dead and buried. She couldn't do anything; reviving the dead was a Dark Art; glanced at the old grandfather clock belonging to Dumbledore...

...and she realized, she needed to go. Quickly; the searchers would be here any minute.

Silently thanking the Hat for their chat and her inherited Foretelling powers, Tora set the ragged head cover on his dusty shelf with a final good bye, and headed towards the door. She heard the muffled sounds of footsteps and jerked back suddenly, knowing someone was climbing up the stairs, her only escape exit...

Rushing to the Hat after locking the door with a spell unable to be undone without some work, the youth slammed the unsuspecting accessory onto her head and interrupted his '_welcome back_'.

'_Do something! They're coming!_' she demanded mentally, not sure of the extent of the powers the Hat of Four Houses held.

'_Hmmm... What to do with one who cannot be placed? The makings of your mind I have never seen, Tora... Where to send you?_' the Hat questioned, asking much like his old self.

**_To her... help her..._**

A voice whispered in her mind, and the director heard, smiling as much a Hat could. '_To her, then. Be wary of the evil Darkness, as you always have, and embrace the Shadows as you meant to. This time, you will have no one to help you..._'

'_I know,_' Tora barely managed, cursing the Powers that Be for letting the Hat and voices tap into her power source. She'd be drained for weeks on end! At least she had her father'sold wand, from when they were actually necessary...

'_Off you go then. This will hurt as well, I must warn you..._' Like she didn't know pain. Everyone did in this Age, and Innocence was rare and protected.

'_Of course. Nothing ever comes easy._'

'_Except pain,_' the Hat reminded, starting the transportation spell. She would appear her his mouth in another time, in a place that much needed her to save the lives of many...

Even if she didn't know her real responsibility, protecting the Heiress from death would help ease the Dark Age struggles considerably, maybe even prevent the events all together. Unbeknownced to everyone, dead and alive, their future fates were in the hands of one crazy, psycho halfbreed in need of an attitude adjustment and serious therapy. The Hat just hoped she didn't screw this up like last time...

In barged a thirty-year-old strict looking man with red hair and dull green eyes, wand drawn in a dueling possition as if he expected an attack at any moment. Scanning the room warily, Percy Weasley only saw the ragged looking Sorting Hat from his youth in the middle of the dusty floor. Nothing was disturbed; everything looked aged with cobwebs and dust littering every nook and cranny.

Muttering to himself, the man stared in disbelief. He was sure he'd seen the one he needed to capture come this way...

As the man left without even bothering to enter the room, Tathar (for that was the Hat's old name, the one given to him by a demon's daughter ages upon decades ago) laughed silently to himself, already seeing the girl's past handy work. Already the pictures were being filled by yawning paintings and the room began to glow a warm color...

* * *

_Years in the Past: Headmaster's Office, August 8, 1996_

Dumbledore shifted through the piles of paperwork required for the start of term, which included basic teacher lesson plans, listening to the Sorting Hat's hummed song. It was a new tune, one created by the supposedly inanimate maestro now starting to add words:

_Mis-_

The Hat stopped as soon as he'd started, making choking and gagging sounds unheard of for a Hat to make. A Hat had no throat, just a limitless abyss used to store things for certain people, so why did he sound as if he was choking?

Suddenly, the ragged patchwork piece of clothe vomited up a rather dazed looking witch, who reminded Dumbledore of someone -a colleague- he'd met before becoming Hogwart's Headmaster.

It hit him as suddenly as the youth had come to be on his carpeted floor. "Silvana...?" he murmured in disbelief. The one he was referring to had gone off into the Department of Mysteries (where she worked as a Level Ten Unspeakable) one day and never come back.

But when the girl raised her head to stare at him with cloudy close-to-amber eyes, he knew it wasn't his old friend. Her eyes were a startling bright blue that seemed to know one's secrets with just a glance, and she could see out of both eyes. And that scar...

It couldn't be! That practice was banished _decades_ before his own birth, which was saying something. (Exactly how old is he, anyway? And why is he still alive, or does he just naturally have the immortality Voldie wants or something?) Besides, who would have done it, if the knowledge was so far gone?

Glancing at him with a wary right eye, the girl reached for something within the folds of her cloak. Thinking it a wand, Dumbledore drew his own and pointed it at the laying girl. He was relieved when all she held was a silken black strap of clothe to tie around her unseeing eye.

Sighing, the youth murmured to the cautions man, "I know we must talk, Lord Albus, but can it wait a few days? I need-" Without finishing her sentence, the girl fell over backwards, unconscious.

Kneeling over the young woman, he saw a crescent moon necklace made from an unimaginable stone and his eyes widened in surprise. Quoting the wand maker in thought as the man called Madam Pomfrey, '_Curious... very curious..._'

Digging a metal container out of his robe pocket as Poppy took the girl away, Dumbledore now knew he needed to go Lemon Drop shopping again... And then wait for the girl to wake and ask some questions.

Simple plan in mind, the Headmaster went back to his paper work as the bell rang midday. An interesting year it would be...

* * *

A/N: This story is just for the fun of it, so don't expect any updates at regular intervals. I know I already have two other stories going, but I needed something else... unplanned... 

Tell me what you think, if you want to. I don't really expect any reviews.

_Li_


	2. Chapter Two: New Age of Secrets

_xx _**Torn Rose of Ages Past **_xx  
_**(Li)**

**_vv_ Chapter Two: New Age of Secrets _vv_**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, though the OCs are mine...

Summary: -AU- In a distant age where theSoulless rule and those who practice the Light and protect the Hogwarts House Heirs are hunted like Muggle animals, one House protector is sent to the past to save the life of a long-dead Ravenclaw Heiress... At the moment she is confronted by Dumbledore about abruptly appearing and explains a few things...

* * *

_Hogwart's Hospital Wing, August 11, 1996 - 3:45 PM_

An old wizard-looking man sat stroking his long bearded, standing never to the slumbering form of Tora, the mysterious girl who'd almost choked the Sorting Hat. And when asked, said Hat replied that a personal message from his future self had been sent, along with a warning not to harm the girl. But what if she harmed them?

Blue eyes deep in thought, Dumbledore stepped aside for Madam Pomfrey to take a look at the girl's still form. She'd slept for three days, and from what she'd said before promptly fainting, she would awake soon. Poppy had to agree with the Headmaster's deduction; her heart rate and breath status were changing from the peaceful, easy rhythm when she'd check the other days.

The head of Hogwart's Hospital Wing was the only one save Dumbledore who knew of the girl, though a few Professors had come asking to see the Headmaster when he was '_in a meeting_', which they thought meant buying more lemon drops. Really, he needed a refill, but the girl was -inward wince- more important than his sweet addiction.

She could be a threat to Hogwarts and it's students, if he thought she was what she seemed to be... And that marking...

Madam Pomfrey was quite surprised as the girl began to twitch, face crinkling as the strange girl awoke full with a yawn and curious glance at the two staring with the exposed molten-gold eye. Yawning a second time, the youth struggled to sit up (Poppy was too stunned, staring at Tora's eye in disbelief, to protest), letting her midnight blue cloak fall from her shoulders in the possess.

Dumbledore had never seen such clothes, even on Muggle television. Tight black rare dragon hide black top, her important show-offy parts covered in a faded dark navy vestwith many needed pockets, embraced her slim figure, and would have accented her womanly form if she wasn't so underfed. Loose silky canvas pants flowing around her like a semi-tight skirt, each knee secured with a dark blue hoister slightly darker than her hair -wand hold on the left, unremarkable dagger on the right.

What caught his attention most, however, was the choker she wore and the necklace secured by a thin strip of black hide hanging loosely down her front. The crescent moon necklacewith that unusual stonewas a demon heir's birth-gift, the 5-point-star choker charged with Light energy so much he thought it couldn't contain anymore, yet it still gathered needed energy from the magical pathways around her.

Tora just raised an eyebrow at his examination, the unnerving way she pierced his careful mask reminding him of the Unspeakable Silvana, who'd once spied on the Ministry for the Order, though she wasn't an official member. It could be possible that they were related, since only one demon Clan he knew of produced that kind of hair.

"Lord Albus."

That caught his attention. No one had called him Lord Albus in a long while, not since he'd refused the Minister position and became Headmaster of the school. But, ah! It brought back so many memories.

"Lord Albus, I know you must have many questions, but first I must tell you what I cannot answer. I know you'll understand, even if your nurse friend doesn't seem to think so." This lasted ended in her trying to hide a chuckle as she tilted her head slightly to the side, indicating to look.

He did. Madam Pomfrey was fuming for some unknown reason, most likely that a patient with such wounds -new and old- was moving without her permission.

"My Lady Poppy, there is nothing to worry about. In the future, from where I come, these wounds would not even earn me medical help. There are so many suffering from the evil Darkness..." She trailed off, sadness eclipsing her cloudy near-amber eyes as she turned to the Headmaster. "As for what I have for you..."

He hadn't seen the pouch connected to her leather-clad waist until she reached into it and pulled out a worn letter. The paper had obviously gone through much trouble, even more so for the girl. He mourned the loss of youth these children of the future must have, to send much a young one to do an (seemingly) important task.

Then again, he thought she was a demon; you never could tell with them, since hardly any showed their true age, and the ones that did usually cut it down by at least half.

Dumbledore would have pocketed the letter address to him in an unfamiliar handwriting and read it in his office if Tora hadn't warned him before you would say '_lemon drop_'. "Do not open that before the start of the current sixth year's seventh year; there is much riding on my coming here. If you do, you'll do something that caused our future to become even worse..."

The Headmaster just nodded, and turned to dismiss Madam Pomfrey so they could move on to more interesting subjects. What he found was an empty space and muttering farther away about insufferable wizards and important missions. Poppy had left earlier in the conversation, and the old man's surprised look made the youth chuckle.

Looking slightly embarrassed, the pink tint to his cheeks soon faded as he decided to ask a serious, important question he needed to know the answer to.

"Does Voldemort rule in your future?" Dumbledore asked cautiously, not sure how to ask. On the outside he was as calm as ever, but inwardly he shifted nervously, awaiting her affirmative answer.

Instead, the Headmaster was surprised when Tora laughed out right, whipping an imaginary tear from her eye. Seeing his concerned gaze, knowing he must think her mad to find humor in such a thing, but he didn't know what she did.

Sitting up from where she'd fallen, the youth answered, "No, he's long dead." A pause, and Albus sighed in relief. Tora smiled humorlessly, though with an ironic twist to it. "You are scared of the anger, pain and hatred Lord Voldemort represents. I fear what he will _unleash_!"

Deciding not to press the issue for fear of her clamming up, though his confusion evident to the molten eyed girl, Dumbledore processed the information and began to try and decipher what she meant by it. Her sigh only managed to startle him out of his thoughts a second later, not even close to a conclusion.

'_Something to ponder on a rainy day,_' he thought to himself, turning to the laying youth.

"Anything more to ask, Lord Albus?" her voice was flat, and though she'd gotten more than enough sleep, she was obviously tired.

"Is there anything you wish to tell me?" he asked in turned, smiling at her. Tora returned the conniving man's smile, waved a little to him, then answered through a yawn, "There is."

"Oh, yes?" he asked, waiting for more puzzling news.

He saw the glint in her eye too late as he realizes he'd been tricked. Smirking behind her yawn, Tora stated to the old man, "G'night, Albus."

The Hogwart's Headmaster just chuckled and smiled before patting the girl on the head before she fell back in a faint. "Good night, mystery-girl."

He started toward the door, only to be stopped by a small noise of protest. Turning to the sleeping figure, he didn't see her moving in a nightmare so what could it have been?

"Name's Tornaroes, my Lord. Call me Tora." The murmur was just loud enough to be heard by him at his distance yet quiet enough to sound lower than a whisper.

"Good night, then, Miss Tora."

Traveling down the halls to his office and a mountain of new-term paper work, Dumbledore mused, '_Tornaroes... Such an odd name, but it suits such an odd girl. And Tora, the name for tiger... a powerful beast... What is she here for, this Torn Rose, I wonder?_'

Patting his pocket, he realized something: his lemon drop case was gone. The girl had taken it when he was close... Smiling to himself, he thanked Merlin he had extra boxes.

Yes, the boxes. That room hidden behind the Black former Headmaster's painting was full of lemon drops. He'd forgotten about them; and now he wouldn't have to shop for his favorite sweets ever again! That's why he always offered them to others... he had so many, he might as well share his unlimited supply.

Smiling mysteriously to himself, Dumbledore walked past the jumping gargoyle and into his office of never-ending lemon drops and paper work. Yes, this was definitely going to be an interesting year...

* * *

_Guestroom Corridor, August 14, 1996 - 12:36 PM_

The guest rooms, contrary to what you might think, were not anywhere near the teacher's apartments. They were located on the other side of the school, actually, and the hall they branched from was no more interesting than any other, save the unremarkable collection of portraits now staring at the two persons standingin front ofa harem of angel-like beingspainting thatgiggled.

Dumbledore stood with Tornaroes outside her new courters, the girl glancing around herself with an underlying sadness to her visible eye She hadn't seen Hogwarts intact and without the aura of so many deathes that had taken place, even after so many years their screams and agonyhad still there.

Seeing the haunted look in her eye, Dumbledore immediately distracted her. "The password is_ Zamatrisma Demetress_." Tora glanced his way warily. What he'd just said was an old Clan password belonging to her deceased mother, something no one but a close friend of relative would know.

"Did you know Vantressa?" she asked cautiously, not sure if he knew what he was implying.

The Headmaster just smiled at her with that damn twinkle in his blue eyes, something that signaled he would be subtle and dance around the subject while trying to keep you guessing. Tora would have none of it.

His answer surprised her even more. This younger version of the man she served wasn't supposed to know any of her history yet, damn it!

"No. I have an Unspeakable friend named Silvana. She often spoke of her sister before disappearing some years ago." A pause, leaving Tora silently fuming. "There are much likenesses between you two, I must say. Were you related in some way?"

'_As if you don't know, old fool. I won't give you the satisfaction of admitting what you want to confirm._'

Faking innocence to even fool her boss, the older Dumbledore, was something she was quite good at. So the youth just blinked a couple times, the silken black strip of clothe covering her left eye fluttering slightly, and smiled sheepishly.

"No, I don't think so... I haven't seen many people apart from my younger brother, " here he looked skeptical, and Tora inwardly laughed. More like an annoying ward who wanted to know everything than a brother, "and some of the other messengers. Your future self, of course; oh, and sometimes the Soulless..."

"Soulless...?" Dumbledore subtly prompted as she trailed off. The girl's eye filled with tears that threatened to brake loose, the black over her unseeing eye dampening slightly.

Seeing her reaction, the Headmaster was immediately alarmed. Could it be that the girl had no idea what she seemed to be and wasn't as war-hardened as he'd thought? "Is something the matter, Mrs. Tora?" His concern sounded sincere enough.

Nodding shakily, the youth just sighed outright. No use wasting time; she needed sleep. "Y-yes, Lord Albus. Just... Most of my friends died to the Soulless, what you would call Death Eaters, but mine aren't... exactly human anymore..."

Sniffing for effect, Tora murmured the password to her room and backed away as the portrait swung open. "I'll talk more tomorrow, Headmaster. I still need to rest..."

"Goodnight, then, Mrs. Tora." He had many things to ponder...

"Goodnight, Lord Albus." She entered the room and the old man began to leave.

"Oh, and Lord Albus?"

"Yes?"

She smiled a twinkle of her own in that unnerving near-amber gaze. "Don't open the letter. It's important for the year-future you to know what will happen that year, not before. Trust me one this, m'lord. You don't want to know yet."

Dumbledore just nodded and smiled, wondering how she knew his intentions. Then again, Tora could know him quite well in the future; something more to ponder on a rainy day...

Chuckling to herself, Tora shouted after him, "All you need to warn Harry Potter about is to not loose his temper that often! If he does, the whole school's in for a surprise!" The painting was shut, leaving a stunned Headmaster to think.

Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, was still alive in her time? That was reassuring...

Walking to his office, he didn't notice someone who shouldn't have heard scurry away... He had something to tell his Lord, at last...

* * *

_Hogwarts Ruins, Tora's future, December 1, 20xx - 0:00 AM_

He'd been searching and searching for her, wondering where she could have gone. He knew she wasn't dead; she could survive much more than spells, enchantments and natural disasters easily. She could be hurt, but he knew she'd come here as she'd told him before she'd went.

Sighing to himself, a dark haired man of twenty-one stood amongst the rumble of Howarts' once-Charms room, searching for someone worriedly. Snow colored white the deserted land around him, glowing with an otherworldly light he just ignored. With all that was happening around him, you'd think the oblivious boy would notice _something_...

The halls around him, once pieces, now became whole. The snow receded as if it had never been there in the first place as he entered the deserted, still-intact hall before the stone gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office. Immediatelyit jumped away, and for some strange reason, he didn't feel the chill he normally had...

It had become a habit to knock on the Headmaster's door, even if no one save the occasional Protector dared venture into the dusty office, and to his surprise, the all-too-familiar voice of Dumbledore answered. The old man hadn't left head courters in years, so how could he...

It hit the dark haired man suddenly, and a rueful smile over took his face. For all his obliviousness to what happened around him most of the time, he could process startling information and come up with a suitable answer within seconds. It was that trait he used at the moment, knowing exactly were his good friend Tora had gone.

Tornaroes had changed to past to a better future.

Smiling to himself, the reincarnated Heir of Slytherin opened the door only to be greeted by his teacher and amuch changed guardian...

* * *

A/N: Hoped you liked it, at least a little. And I got one review! Thank you, Perilous. I'll be gone for a while (9th to 17th), sorry. I won't have a computer to write at, but I'll try and have another chapter up around then. 

_Li_


	3. Chapter Three: New Age of Findings

**xxTorn Rose of Ages Pastxx**

**_vv _Chapter Three: New Age of Findings _vv_**

**(Li)**

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or my spelling mistake that I'm desperately trying to fix.

Summary: -AU- In a distant age where theSoulless rule and those who practise the Light and protect the Hogwarts House Heirs are hunted like Muggle animals, one House protector is sent to the past to save the life of a long-dead Ravenclaw Heiress... Now roaming the halls, but finds a familair place she once -and still- loved...

* * *

_August 15, 1996, Hall of the Room of Requirements, 1:27 AM_

Tornaroes stalked down the hall for the third time, trying to make as little noise as possible. For the past24 hoursshe'd been walking the halls, reacquainting herself with the Hogwart's complete layout. It was amazing to see what was reduced to rubble in her time complete stone corridors and stairwells in this one.

The one room she'd loved to enter while living here years in the future, before the attack that destroyed most of the school's castle, was the one that changed to what she needed at the moment of entrance. No one quite remembered it's name in her future, but she could always be found there from her first few days after settling in, or whenever Tornaroes was actually staying.

The hallway she now walked down was only two left turns and a back stairway from her quarters, making it easy to sneak there, even this time of night. What she needed at the moment was a personal library with a comfortable table to read at, walls stacked with all types of books. She missed her home at the Shelter (thankfully nothing like that dreadful House) and own library so much soshefelt sick with longing, along with her charges to Protect.

Tora almost missed the wall-now-elaborately-carved-door appearing out of nowhere, but grabbed the handle and pulled it open before it could disappear.

Inside was what looked to be a Victorian tower, complete with the wooden ladders and railings commonly found in the Shelter's wing Tora called home. Books lined the walls on thick oaken shelves, stacked as high as the many meter ceiling.

Running a hand over the closest rack on leather bound spines, Tora's eyes glowed in happiness. Last time she'd come to her library, which would be a month ago from her time travel from the future, the Soulless had attack and managed to take three Protector recruits captive. Luckily, her own Squadron had gone after them, bring their comrades back after a long, hard battle. Thankfully, no one had been Lost to their Darkness.

Sighing at the memory, Tora had to admit she wouldn't miss the constant battles over the Magical Word's souls. And she would stop the chaos from being unleashed, even if she had to use _them _to do it –the Protector's secrets weapon for last resort only. Or the things learned from her belovedClan before events proved otherwise.

_Ginsei and It's Useless, A Medical Guide_

The title caught her attention.

Ginsei was one of rarest demonaticly magical Eastern plants in her future, and there weren't many members of the Medical ward knew its uses beyond energy restoration function. But as Tora had lived in Asia before anything had happened –including that Voldemort idiot's reighn—she knew how to take care of the plants, but never really though beyond the uses she already knew…

The book could come in handy if she could get some Ginsei seeds from the Herbology greenhouses. It would be simple to grow them, with her knowledge. And if the leaves were ripe enough for plucking, her energy could be brought back even more quickly.

Glancing around the rest of the Room of Requirements, Tora searched for any more books that would be useful. A few others ended up catching her eye after about twenty minutes of searching:

_Dark Creatures and Defenses Against Them: An Advanced Guide  
Time Travel and How to Cope (Theorical Only)  
The Wizard's Mindscape and Its Plains  
_& _Wizarding Secrets for the Wand-waving Impaired_

The first would be interesting, since she herself wanted to know if she Wizarding World knew anything accurate about her Clan's kind. They most likely did not, since up until the Soulless' outbreak, all the Clans had kept to forced hiding, excluding her immediate female family.

'_Only because we were outcasts,_' Tora remembered bitterly. The Clan shunned her and her family as she now did them. If ever in contact with one on the outside, the youth would pointedly ignore him or her.

Carrying the chosen five books to a nearby table, Tora settled down and began to read _Wizarding Secrets for the Wand-waving Impaired_. It wouldn't do if she couldn't use her old father's wand efficiently and be unable to perform the simplest of magics, seeing as her natural powers wouldn't be back fully for at least three weeks.

Someone burst into the room just as Tora finished _Chapter 1: Flips and Dips_, not even bothering to use the door. Said person was a ghost –the school's poltergeist, she knew—who looked quite frightened of something he had likely run from.

He didn't notice her until his roaming gaze fell upon her table, a wide grin replacing his fear and desperation from a moment before.

"What do we have here?" Peeves asked him self. "An early transfer student?" He said this last in a lazy drawl, trying to bait the time-traveling youth.

Tora just glanced up at him with her uncovered molten-gold eye, staring boredly at the now-shocked transparent being. Closing her book with a snap and yawning before standing, she stated, "Is this how you treat all the students, Mr. Trickster? Tsk, tsk. Such **disrespect**. Do you need me to teach you a lesson, Sir Troublesome?"

"No, no, Milady Valorence. I won't bother you again," Peeves murmured, faint-blue eyes locked with her own near-amber. Laughing nervously, he retreated through the wall.

Smirking to herself, Tora lay her head on both palms and sighed. "At least he remembers me," she stated before going back to her book.

* * *

_August 15, 1996, Headmaster's Office, 2:30 AM_

The head house elf –Finsy- stood before her master Professor Dumbledore, the standard uniform crisp and spotless against her small, slight form. The Headmaster sat behind his desk, expression serious and leaning forward onto the flat surface with strong hands clasped.

"The baggage had been placed in the room you requested, Master sir," the house elf stated without the usual nervousness of her species. She wasn't in charge of all her fellows for nothing.

"So he's arrived safely?" the bearded man asked softly.

"Just now, Master Dumbledore, and is now wandering the Halls. Does Master wish Finsy to get other Master?" the green haired figure asked, ready to find the man at a moment's notice. It would go against her nature and upbringing not to ask or do as he said.

The Headmaster shook his head 'no', then went on to discuss school preparations for the new semester's coming. After getting everything sorted out, Dumbledore dismissed Finsy with the wave of his hand. She curtsied and disappeared with a small pop.

The Headmaster, left alone, just smiled and eye-twinkled his wise blue orbs. He wondered how Tora would react to seeing someone thought dead in her own future, someone she was fond of but not quite so close to. He smiled.

One Remus Lupin was now in residence. And unknown to him, his two mysterious guests were meeting at that moment…

* * *

_August 15, 1996, Room of Requirements, 2:37 AM_

Tora picked up the book she had just dropped after sneezing quite a few times, thinking someone must be thinking about her often to cause it, and began to read. But it seemed someone up there didn't want her to even finish the second chapter, since the door opened –this time- and in stepped a surprisingly familiar person. He, in this time, did not know her, and was startled as she waved and smiled at him.

'_Best to act normally; as if I am a stranger to him. Well, I am here,_' Tornaroes thought to herself.

"Why hello there, sir. Is there something I can help you with?" Tora asked, smiling fakely at him. He knew those types of masks –having often worn them himself- but chose not to comment.

Remus J. Lupin did not know what to make of the odd looking girl before him. He'd never seen clothes anywhere similar to hers, the cloak excluded, and his wolf was telling him something just wasn't just about her. Firstly, the stranger's hair didn't look dyed, and those braids seemed older than she was. Secondly, why was her eye covered? It was possible she was like MadEye Moody, which seemed unlikely, or that she was just blind and didn't want to make anyone feel uncomfortable.

Lastly, that golden eye. It wasn't human at all! The only person with similar orbs stared back at him in the mirror day after day, and those were dull and side affects from his curse, no where near the molten-amber like hers.

As the former DADA Professor was sizing her up, Tora was doing the same to him.

It was Master Lupin, alright. Same worn robes and tired expression save many less scars. He didn't have the ruby earrings Lord Sirius had given him last Christmas, his best friend's last gift, and looked… older than he really was without them. At least she now knew how to change things for the better, even for her old friend, unlike last time. **1**

Tora just blinked at him and smiled as Lupin continued to stare uncertainly, not sure what to do and having forgotten what the strange girl had asked when he first walked in. "Let me introduce myself. I am called Tornaroes Valorence, and you are?"

Remus blinked and replied quickly, faintly blushing in embarrassment. "Remus Lupin. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

She smiled again, and for some reason it reminded him of a playful cat's amusement. "The pleasure's all mine, Master Lupin. What, if you don't mind my asking, are you doing in here? I thought I was alone to read."

"I could ask you the same thing," Lupin muttered warily, just loud enough for her to hear. But otherwise replied, "Just reacquainting myself with Hogwart's corridors. If I am bothering you, I can leave." He turned to go.

Tora stopped him as she laughed, raising from her table seat and placing her book on the wooden surface. "Not at all, Master Lupin. Please, sit and make yourself comfortable. Tea? Or would you prefer coffee?" She flicked her wand expertly and a tray of steaming mugs appeared on the table closest to them.

She sat and smiled up at him as he stared at the tempting refreshments. _'What could it hurt? Dumbledore wouldn't allow her in Hogwarts if he thought she was a danger or Death Eater spy._'

Remus shuttered, remembering the last time he'd seen Voldy's minions. He had lost his best friend, then, and was now the last of the Marauders, that counted that is. Then there was the werewolf Clan's offer, the disappiontment, trouble with Tonks. Only safe place, it seemed, was Hogwarts.

'_I should have come sooner,_' Tora thought to himself, seeing her future friend's obvious pain. But it couldn't be helped; if she _had _come sooner in the past, herself in this time would have known and attacked.

The werewolf sat across from her, staring nervously at the oaken table. Something was familiar about the youth –a comfortable feeling that made him want to trust her entirely- yet he couldn't quite place it…

"Coffee? Tea? Sugar with either?" her voice interrupted. She was smiling fakely again.

"Tea, please." As if he hadn't had enough on the train. Dumbledore had been kind enough pay for a coach on the last train to Hogsmeade; a late ride, but he'd wished to be out of that terribly depressing house as soon as he could.

The Black Manor, now the Order of the Phoenix's headquarters, reminded him too much of Sirius' own misery. Being trapped in that house, with no where to go and only the occasional visitor and Mrs. Black's portrait for company had given him a window into what the man he called Padfoot had felt for so long.

"Here you are," Tora stated as she set a cup of tea before the tired man. "Sugar?"

"No thank you." It was so late, and so close to the full moon, he felt terrible.

The youth noticed his discomfort and dispair, but chose not to comment. "Why is that you are at Hogwarts, Master Lupin? Are you a teacher?"

The man shook his head, dismissing the urge to yawn. "No, I was once. I resigned after my first year due to... complications."

Tora knew what those were, but kept silent behind her cheerful mask. It would be better to not let the get too close, here, and her mission would be all the easier for it. And she would have started planning already, if that annoying tracking spell placed upon her would allow it.

"What did you teach?" Tora asked, truly interested on his answer. Would he lie or tell the truth to a stranger that could find out anyway?

"Defense Against the Dark Arts," the man stated, a little embarrassed.

The youth smiled, playing with a loose braid from her bird-nest like hair as she sipped green tea laced with mint (her favorite, and quite relaxing) from flower engraved china. She told the truth, and seemed proud of it, too.

"Are you here to teach the knew term? I've heard instructor for last year ended up in a Mental Institution caused by too much stress and an unrecountable adventure in the Forbidden Forest." Tora laughed loudly inside, still playing polite/good girl. Her acting had come in handy, when caught by the Soulless, who never want the life energies of those who could deceive them so far.

Lupin shook his head, both as a negative and to clear it from the fog of sleep. It was just so late; the day had been too seeming-long…

The youth nodded once, yawning herself. "I wish to continue this again, Master Lupin. It is nice to chat with other Hogwarts guests don't you think?" she asked smiling, obviously tired, and placed her cup on the tray.

Remus followed her lead. "Some other time, then?"

"Yes, some other time." Disappearing the tray, Tora rose as Lupin did, walking to her other table to rescue her forgotten books.

Lupin reached the door, turning to servay the Room of Requirements once more. Tora smiled up at him, a few steps behind. "You have a nice imagination, to need all this," he stated, suddenly half asleep.

The girl nodded in agreement. "I miss the huge libraries of home, but this is an improvement to the smaller ones I've seen, around the school."

She turned the doorknob for him, patting him on the shoulder. For some reason, his half conscious mind didn't register the wolf's silence just by that gesture.

"Goodnight, Milord Remus." There was no teasing tone to her voice; she called him as she'd done in her own future. He deserved the respect, with all he'd been through, and would eventually go through.

Playing with a stray hair of his (longer, now, that he hadn't cut it since Sirius's fall through the Vale) and placing it behind his ear, she silently vowed to keep most of the causes of white hair in his future from happening.

"'Night," Lupin murmured. She was already gone, with one last unmasked smile.

* * *

**Spoilers:** Alright, you must be curious why Tornaroes keeps referring to 'last time'. Well, she came to Hogwarts in around Harry's seventh year, running away from her Clan. (Yes, she is a dark creature; only a halfling, though.) She could predict minor things, and messed the whole Fate of the Boy-Who-Lived-and-just-Wouldn't –Die with her interfering. So all she is doing now is setting things right, since the Soulless' release and most other bad things in her future is her own fault. 

A/N: Ok. Good chapter? And sorry for the spelling errors in the last ones; I kinda rushed through them without editing. And will have them edited and up by Friday, I think.

_Li_


	4. Chapter Four: New Age of Complications

**xxTorn Rose of Ages Pastxx**

**_vv _Chapter Four: New Age of Complications _vv  
_****(Li)**

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, but I do own the OCs, such as Tornaroes and Jumblejones.

Summary: -AU- In a distant age where the Soulless rule and those who practise the Light and protect the Hogwarts House Heirs are hunted like Muggle animals, one House protector is sent to the past to save the life of a long-dead Ravenclaw Heiress... Tora talked to her future-friend, Remus Lupin, and they'll continue their conversation later...

* * *

_August 15, 1996, Great Hall -- 9:03 AM_

Tornaroes stood, staring, from the Great Hall's large double doors. She hadn't eaten with anyone, only going to the kitchen for unneccisary food and something to drink when she felt like it. Now, after getting much too much sleep early this morning, she'd decided to see what the other residents of Hogwarts did for breakfast.

Dumbledore sat at the head of a small table in the middle of the echoy room, Deputy Headmistress McGonagall to his right and a tired looking Professor Remus Lupin to his left. Severus Snape turned in his seat as she entered, glaring at the door. Madam Pomfrey had already eaten, as well as most other teachers.

Hagrid sat across from Snape and next to Lupin, paying close attention to a small boxed egg in his lap. The chair he sat on didn't seem to want to hold all his height and weight as it sagged in protest, but it really had no choise. The big man smiled at Tora as she entered, taking a seat across from Dumbledore. She had gone into the Forbidden Forest many a time; with the Gamekeeper's permission, of course.

"Good morning, Headmaster, fellow Professors." The youth smiled at the seated adults, reaching for the sasuage plate next to Hagrid's gaint elbow. The 'fellow professors' just stared openly.

"Good morning to you as well, Miss Tornaroes. I asume you had a pleasant sleep," Dumbledore asked the youth, eyes twinkling. Tora just laughed politely.

"That I did, milord. That I did."

Scooping an omliete onto her plate from the dish that had just appeared before her stretching hand, the girl made polite conversation with the half gaint next to her, ignoring the prying eyes completely. Dumbledore's deep blue eyes continued to twinkle, something Tora would have scowled at the future him for in annoyence.

'_How do his eyes do that?_' said future Protector had once asked herself. '_Do his eyes have magicly-glued sparkles that reflect light when he orders them to?_' She had yet to come up with a logical --beleivable-- answer.

Lupin was quite confused. The Headmaster had not informed him of this teen's visit. Could she be the new Defense Professor? Quite impossible; she was much to young. Though there was the matter of her calming the beast inside him with a single touch.

While lost deeply in thought, the werewolf had all but stared holes in the girl's skull as the glaring Potion's Master seated across from him was desperately trying to do. McGonagall over looked the girl for the moment, now chatting with Dumbledore on the Gryffindore common room's decorating for the new term.

"Pass the hashbrowns, would you please?" she directed to Snape, uncertain of his name. His future duplicate was dead long before she'd joined the Phoenix Defenders; the fool Voldemort himself had killed the poor man after a great deal of Muggle torture, gaining nothing from the so-called double spy. He was seen as a hero, and even the demon halfling Tora had to admit, was quite brave.

The Slytherin Head of House grudgily passed the dish to Tora, tempted to dump it's contents on the girl for her slight insolence. He declined the impulse, however, after the girl's amber eyed flashed as if she could read his thoughts. His mental barriers were in place, though, and it would be quite impossible for someone so young could do so.

"Thank you, Professor...?" she trailed off, the last questioning.

"Severus Snape; Mater of Potions and Head of Slytherin House," supplied Dumbledore, breaking his small talk with the Transfigeration Professor.

Tora smiled and nodded to the sneering man, genuanly glad to meet the not-so-future hero. "Pleasure to meet you, Master Snape. Tornaroes Valorence, at your servace." She would have bowed, still smiling charmingly, if the table wasn't in the way.

"Yes, a pleasure I am sure." The man's face remained impassive as the youth gave a final nodded and proceeded to dump a small amount of hashbrowns, set the plate down, and summoned plastic bottle of something thick and red as blood with the wave of her hand.

Two mouths gaped open, two stared in shock, and Dumbledore just continued to twinkle those blue eyes of his. (Getting quite old, isn't it?) She had just done Wandless Magic at an age most would still be in school learning to control their store, wand included. Who was she, really?

"Ah, is something wrong?" asked the youth, faking nervousness. Turning the now-opened bottled upside-down, she proceeded to squeeze the bright red cream-like substance onto half of her food, partially eaten omlette included. "Is it the Ketchup? I can hardly eat this food without Heinz, you know. Quite addictive stuff, I might add."

Tora winked at the still staring Professors --former and current-- before taking a bite of the red-covered egg, closing her eyes and almost purring in delite. Seeing the wide eyes of her fellow breakfast mates, she purposefully mistook their unbelieving nature as confusion.

"I enjoy my food, yes. Would anyone care to try some Ketchup?" She offered the plastic bottle, arm stretched out, but was declined by automatic --but polite-- head nodded 'no's.

"Right, then. All the more for me." She took another bite, this time skipping the puring before diving in.

Lupin was the first Professor to find his voice. "Where did you get the... Ketchup?" He wasn't quite sure what it was, though his inhansed senses told him it reeked of tomatos.

Tora blinked, not sure who to answer. Deciding to be truthful, "I had it shrunk, of course. Are you sure you wouldn't like to try some, Master Lupin? It dulls the pang of the sasuage's overspiceyness. The house elves add a lot of seasonings, don't they?"

Dumbledore smiled, wiping his mouth --and beard-- with his lap napkin. "Quite right, Miss Tornaroes." Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a familiar tin. His tablemates mentally groaned. "Lemon Drop, dear?"

"You must have quite a lot of these, Lord Albus. How do your teeth survive?"

"Derotting charms, of course," stated the Headmaster without any hint of an embarassed blush. Tora nodded, expression thoughtful.

"Useful, they are, when one eats many sweets."

The professors stared. The clock rang 9:40.

"Odd..." murmured Dumbledore too low for anyone but maybe Tora to hear.

"Hmmm?"

Tora glanced up, and upon seeing the time, sighed. "I am sorry to leave so soon, fellow facilty, but I had the Castle Clock set for my leaving time. If anyone might need me, just ask one of the wandering cupid-like angels to direct you." Blank stares. "They are in the paintings, of course.

"Now, if you would please excuse me..." Tora rose, her plate disappearing as she did so.

"Of course, Miss Tornaroes." Dumbledore smiled as Tora turned and bowed low before walking briskly out of the Great Hall.

The Headmaster turned to the confused Hogwarts staff and guest, before smiling a knowning grin (including the twinkle), "And that, my friends, is Tornaroes Valorence, our new resident enigma."

One Professor didn't join in the laughter to Dumbledore's joke. One Potion's Masterwas determined to drag the youth's mysteries to light; for both his masters, one willingly to and the other long ago forced.

Snape sneered. He'd always enjoyed a challenge.

* * *

_August 17, 1996, Tora's Room --2:01 PM_

It was a nice, calm day. Within the confindes of her spacious couters, one Tornaroes paced the stone floor without cease, aura a faint ugly greenish yellow. Clawednails dug into the tender flesh of the webs between fingers as the pacing youth clapst hands together tightly, an old habit picked up from someone she hardly remembered long ago.

Those stupid, stupid books! Reminding her of the charges she missed so much!

_They could be dead, without your care. How could you leave them so suddenly? Without someone to warn them, to care for them? A sustitute for you?_

Influenced thoughts ran through her rambling mind. She couldn't change anything; going back to that time was all but impossible. She needed to forcuss on the imeadiate problem.

_Knowing how your wards are._

Yes-- no! Bad mind voice!

But the thought just wouldn't leave her clouded mind. She needed to know her foster family's condition, and there was only one way quick enough without her natural powers.

She swept from the room in a Slytherin-dramatic way, leaving the window open, a cold wind flipping the pages of _Ginsei and it's Uses: A Medical Guide_. Unknown to her, glowing green eyes cold as limestone followed her every move, the figure they belonged to curious to it's prey's actions.

Her fellow demon would soon find out. All in good time, that is.

_Headmaster's Office -- 2:27 PM_

Entering the Headmaster's office from a secret side passage she doubted Dumbledore even knew about, Tora smiled to herself as she found the room empty of all but Fawks. Said phoenix flew to her raised arm, cawing in delight and blinking charmingly. The youthful figure just chuckled to herself, petting her long time friend on the head as he wished.

_'How is your master, young one?_' the demon asked in Ancient Mystic, something beyond human (save some with Early Age blood) could not hope to comprehend. It was body language, muted speak, and most of all mental telepathy. It was something born into someone: few had leanrned, and even few had lived to speak with any.

_'Worried, My Lady. I assume it was you whom distracted Master's mind?_' Fawks asked, calling the girl her least-high tittle.

Tora snorted. _'You know not to call me that, Fawks. If I am a Lady, then you shall be an Emperor._'

The phoenix laughed, huffing slightly. Yes, in his native land he would have been the Leader of his family, but that was long ago. _'What are you here for, Mistress?'_ It was quite curious, to have someone in his Master's room without premission.

_'Just to speak with the Fonder's old rag-thing, Fawks. And if you would please not tell your master I was here?_' Tora almost begged.

'_You have my promise, elder one._' A phoenix's promise could never be broken; she needn't have worried.

"Thanks, then," she whispered aloud, knowing the fire bird could understand her. Fawks snorted, not the least bit amused, and took off from her arm to his proper perch by his Master's desk. Sighing to herself, hiding a knowing smile, the youth eye-searched for what she'd come for.

The Sorting Hat sat where it always had: on a dusty shelf full of old Founders things long used in her future.

Smiling in triumph, Tora grabbed the Hat as if it was something delicate and lay it gently on her head, obscuring her one-eyed vision.

_'Well, if it isn't the girl who almost choked me. Hello, then._' The Hat wasn't bitter; only wanting a little sympathy.

Tora sighed, mumbling an apology. "You can see my memories, can't you, Tathar? So you know I had no choise."

The Hat was serious in a moment. _'Ah, the young Weasly looking for you, yes._ _And the ones wanting you to come to this current time. Tell me, why do the Voices of Others speak to you?'_

"You should know, stupid rag," muttered Tornaroes. "You see it, don't you? Or is the passage blocked."

A moment of silence, then, '_I have never seen an Unplacable mind like yours, Tora. Your mind has twists and turns, hidden memories not right for me to see. One like myself cannot natigate an Immortal's mind to it's fullest, as you well know.'_

Tora nodded, the Hat slidding down over her eyes even more. "I do. Now, if you would please tell me how my charges are..."

_'Timo and Sarias, you mean? Quite easy...' _The faint sound of humming birds drinking, their wings pausing not a second. _'Ah, yes. They are fine, happy and healthy. I am not able to tell you the future, though you wish to know. Be glad your charges still exist.'_

"I shall keep that in mind. Thank you well, Tathar." Places the Hat in its rightful place, Tora left the way she'd come.

Dumbledore entered the office a moment later, and finding nothing out of order, opened his secret Lemon Drop stash much to the protest's of former Headmaster Black's portrait. He would do almost anything for the sweets, including putting up with the rath of an inamiate object.

Ah, the pleasures of being a coniving old fool with the luck to be thought brilliant but senial. He could get away with almost anything!

Fawks stared nervously at his master as the aged man began chuckling to himself. He was certain Albus wasn't just thought a little loony, but quite was. Atleast the man wasn't dancing around in barely any clothing as Master Godric had done once upon a time. The thought wasn't very reassuring; it was only a matter of time. Sighing to himself, the phoenix slept.

* * *

_August 20, 1996, Headmaster's Office --10:23 AM_

"Is there something you needed me for, Lord Albus?" asked a slightly annoyed Tora, who had been reading with an open widow when summoned by the house elf Finsy.

"Yes, my dear. What are we to do with you while you stay within Hogwarts?" a calm headmaster asked, sitting behind his huge desk. The aged man stared at Tora's standing form, concerned for what he would tell the students about this strange girl he deduced much older than himself.

The youth turned toward the Mugwump, eyes mischeivious. "Exchage student? Living transparent being?" He could see through her body for a moment, which made him wonder upon the extent of her amazing powers. "An Order memeber? The truth?"

Dumbledore startled at the mention of his secret organization, then forced his tense body to relax. She was close to his future self and those of his current Inner Circle; of course she knew something anyone he trusted enough was informed of.

Tora just smiled, reading his mind not for the first time. "Yes, I know of your dear Order of the Phoenix. What did you think the same Phoenix Defence is? A new program?" The Headmaster nodded reluctantly, leaving the youth to continue. "No, it's an extended Order, revised to fit over seven million willing pertisipents."

Albus stared and the girl just laughed.

"Seven million, yes, but only two -- at most -- are Protectors of the military rank. The others have desk jobs, or are the remaining wizarding families of Europe." Upon the man's confused expression, she explained, "The Muggles have fled underground, protected by wards and all number of Magical Creatures, including Elves."

Dumbledore nodded, unwilling to show his current surprise to the girl. Elves and Magical Creatures willingly helping to protect humans? A little farfetched, even for his own twisted logic.

"Anyway, have you desided on something as of yet?"

Dumbledore would have grinned sadisticly, which scared most off, if doing so wouldn't contridict his grandfatherly image. "Yes, yes, my dear." Tora waited as the younger (yes, younger) waited for the suppsense to build. "You shall be a student!"

Tornaroes stared. And blinked. And tried to hold in her laughter.

"A student? Really, Lord Albus, I think that a bit farfetched. I'm much too old to be a transfer, even, since the laws state only younger than fifteen years."

Dumbledore eye-twinkled again, and Tora had to squash the urge to twitch and glare. That was fastly becoming annoying. "You shall be a first year, then."

He raised his wand to the startled girl's face, casting a human Transfigeration spell. She was younger --twelve at the seeming more-- with bright blue eyes the former color of her now redish yellow hair. Her clothes, of course, were standard wizarding uniform, though her eye patch was still covering her unusable one. All together, she was seething.

"And my House?" she asked through gridded teeth. Wait a moment...

Dumbledore smiled. "Hufflepuff, of course." The badage appeared on her robes with a wave of his wand.

That was the last straw for Tora; her aura flared an angry red. Wild demon magic surrounded her form, breaking his spell's purpose easily, as she glared murderously at the startled man. He'd seen fury before, of course, but never something of this magnitude.

Something began to sing in the background, and Dumbldore realized it was his bond-phoenix, Fawoks. The song was unusual; he'd only ever heard the firebird singing in sorrow for it's Master's passing or joy for a new one. What could this possibly mean?

The music seemed to have it's desired effects: Tora's aura calmed, and she seemed only overwelmbingly tired. Glancing at the phoenix from the corner of her now-golden right eye, the youth smiled wryly. "Have me there, Fawoks."

Dumbledore stared questionly at the slumped-shouldered figure before him. Somehow his bond-partner could comunicate with the demon girl, something the aged man had never even heard of.

Sighing, Tora sensed something coming. It wanted... she didn't know what... but it was familair, and just... there! Then it was gone.

Slightly confused the girl --as if possessed by another force-- appealed to Dumbledore, "I can be an assistant and substatute teacher."

Surprised, the Headmaster thought it over. Not a bad idea.. Only one problem: "Do you have the training?"

Still not herself, Tora replied with a humorless smile, "Quite, Headmaster. More than enough, I am sure."

Dumbledore smiled, shaking the youth'soffered hand to settle the deal. "Welcome, then, Tornaroes, to the Hogwarts facilty. Your room in the teacher's courters should be ready by tomarrow."

"My name is Tornaroes Valorence, Lord Albus, and you needn't bother with another room. The one I am currently stationed in is just fine. Good day to you, then," Tora stated, smiling, before bowing and stalking toward the doors and down the spiral starecase.

The watching green eyes -- cold as limestone-- glisened.

* * *

_August 28, 1996 Kitchens -- 7:44 PM_

Tora sat in the kitchens, sipping tea with Remus Lupin, the man she'd kept cornering until he'd agreed to talk with her. After that insident, Lupin and Valorence chatted now and then,becoming if not not friends than well informed aquintences.

At the moment, Remus was discussing the uses of Bogart hunting to overcome one's fear -- "With someone with you, of course." -- while Tora listened intently, currecting him every now and then with information few humans had discovered yet. The house elves were scurrying around them, cooking a lunch/feast for the whole next day (it annoyed most to no end with no students to enjoy their wonderful cooking).

Dobby was trying to get his girlfriend away from the alcohal, after saying "hello" to Tora, who usually came to the Kitchens to eat anyways. They became good friends early on, with the house elf asking few questions about her past and the halfling happy to see another person from her future thought long dead (from protecting an injured Harry Potter from a Death Eater's Killing Curse), though she had never met Dobby personally before.

"Now, say if someone was irrationally scared of spiders--" Lupin's lastest topic was cut short as his listener clutched her head.

Pain Tora knew all too well pounded the Immortal's skull, the Voices long silent fighting the force along with her. It was the presence from Dumbledore's office, wanting to take control of her vocal cords yet again. She wouldn't allow it this time, though.

Next thing Tornaroes knew, house elves surrounded her fallen form, muttering amongst themselves as a concerned, pale werewolf knelt beside her, asking what was wrong. "Just a flux..." she muttered, ignoring his confused looks as the Hogwart's Kitchen staff backed slowly away.

"A flux in what?" The question was ignored.

"Finsy?" Tora asked tiredly. The Head Elf suddenly appeared by her elbow, much to Lupin's surprise.

"Yes, Mistress? What can Finsy to for your, ma'am?" asked the enthusiastic house elf.

"Tell Lord Albus... that I'll be gone until the feast... Don't hold up if I'm not there at it's start..." murmured the youth, coughing slightly.

"Finsy will tell Master sir for you, mistress ma'am." With a bow, she disappeared. Tora just nodded.

"Dobby... Keep my room fresh for me will you?" she asked her new friend, smiling tiredly.

"Dobby will do as ma'am person asks, Dobby will! And a good job too!" yelled the free house elf, a sock falling from it's place atop his head

"Thank you Dobby." Tora smiled, then shifted, loosening Lupin's hold purposefully.

"What--?" Before Remus could tighten his grip, she was gone, though his werewolf eyes could pick up the slight shift in the air as she bolted at an inhuman running speed. "What is she...?" He didn't think anyone would answer.

An old house elf stayed behind as the others went back to their tasks, is brown and bumpy skin wrinkled beyond beleif. He stared up at the former Professor, brown eyes near-blind with old age. It was almost his time to go, it seemed. "Someone here for reasons beyond us," the old one answered mysticly, wringing trembling hands. "To take others pain is apparent; but is alone, this time, if Fate seems fit to see to that. Others will try, and try as they might, to help her. Be'wareShadowy Darkness, master sir; and not just the apparent kind."

Lupin blinked, glanced around, then turned back to where the house elf had once been. There was only an empty space, leaving the Moony in confusion.

Tora, on the other hand, was nearby, at the edge of the kitchens. As she stumbled out the door, she remembered something important.

In four days the new year would begin; new and old students alike would enter Hogwart's Great Hall. Tornaroes, the Protector from the Future, would see her two Past charges -- one Heir to be lost, the other to fight the Evil by his friends' sides, watching them get killed and imprisoned one by one -- if this past turned into her future. The one she could save would come: the one the Voice kept chanting to protect.

Tora prayed to all the Gods willing to grant her need for patientce, and the will to protect from afar.

* * *

A/N: I may put some past-slash more-than-hints in here. Vote 'yes' or 'no' and I will change or continue my plans, if you please. 

_Li_


	5. Chapter Five: New Age of Rememberence

**xxTorn Rose of Ages Pastxx**

**_vv _Chapter Four: New Age of Rememberence _vv  
_****(Li)**

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, but I do own the Ocs, such as Tornaroes and Jumblejones.

Summary: -AU- In a distant age where the Soulless rule and those who practise the Light and protect the Hogwarts House Heirs are hunted like Muggle animals, one House protector is sent to the past to save the life of a long-dead Ravenclaw Heiress... Butwith the odd house elf's message to Lupin and Tora now missing, things are about to be even more interesting...

* * *

_December 1, 2001, Phoenix Defense HQ – 6:22_

A messenger rushed into the cramped planning tent, spoiled robes billowing around his drenched form. Four figures turned to stare at him with war-grim eyes, looking up from their latest battle plans. "What has Tommy boy done this time?" one asked warily, a hardened sense of humor surfacing.

The one who had spoken brushed aside the papers from his spot across the man who trespassed. A long brown haired woman to his right turned to glare at the black haired man, unwilling to snap in the messenger's presence.

"Yes, what has he done? The Dark Forces have been quiet for quite a while." A thin, tired voice asked from the shadows before the trespassing one, coming into the light. Dark circles indicating lack of sleep – a common thing, now a'days – deepened his dull amber eyes, the skin pale as moonlight.

The only silent one, a man so aged he looked old enough to tell tales of the stone age or before, stared at the messenger with calculating blue eyes that had lost their twinkle for the moment. Sorcerer like robes draped his willowy form, a long white beard and mustache giving the impression of an old Muggle fairy tale figure.

Emerald eyes bored into the nervous man, the three leaders and one advisor of Phoenix Defense's military section turning their attention to the shaking man. Thunder rippled outside, illuminating through the tent flap left open hardened faces of once youthful figures expecting the grim worst.

"H-he's found it! Voldemort's found it!" shouted thepaniced messenger man.

Four forms started, unsure of how to react. The brown haired woman, slightly shorter than their dark haired leader and just as well build (in all areas that mattered), asked the dreaded question. They needed to know.

"What has he found?"

Trembling, the man fumbled for a slightly damp paper inside his robes, flinging it onto the table as if it would burn if touched too long. "This!"

Several markings, all evidently run over magically a stone-written mystic text, covered the first half of the parchment, a line, then another script. What looked like a curved 'X', cross-like 't', pointed '3' crowded between the 't' and a slightly-tipped 'c' with a curved '—' from it's middle. The line under this was curved, as if something else was written but unable to copy, then another text, this one even more complicated: '-' about a 'l' and curved dash under (one letter); upside down triangle; backwards 'j' without the dot, a side ways 'v' meeting it's bottom; another pointed '3'; and oddest of all, a curved 'A', the middle line not meeting, on it's side, a small 'l' above.

"No…" a female voice from the farthest corner whispered.

Hermione studied the paper with interest, the male unable to make anything of the odd markings now staring at her in anticipation. "Odd," the woman murmured, "I can't read these markings. They were never in ancient runes, and I haven't seen anything similar in any of the book I've read."

Dumbledore 'hmm'ed in interest, glancing at the farthest corner from the door. "How mysterious. Correct, Tora?"

A girl, no older than sixteen, stepped from the shadows, startling the messenger man now waiting to be dismissed. Familiar blue hair, less tangled and without the many braids, stared with amber eyes, both useable but the blue scar over her left still there. It wasn't as prominent, though, but glistened an odd greenish tinted now and again. She wore the standard wizarding world clothes, though a band on her arm pronounced her a proud Section leader as well as Squadron captain.

"I suppose…"

"What does it say, Tornaroes?" the black haired leader, Harry Potter, asked seriously. They all knew she was a demon, and though halfling, had lived longer than anyone save maybe Dumbledore had even met. She would know, if anyone did. Too bad Tora was such a reluctant teacher; he could have used her during his school days, and before.

The youth glanced at the paper Hermione was holding and snorted. "Old Voldie's trying to resurrect that damn bastard? Tells you how much research he does, eh?" Her audience stared in confusion.

"What is it!" Harry asked impatiently. This was one of the most important leads on the bastard's doings yet, and she was joking around!

Tora sighed and muttered, "Just trying to lighten the mood," under her breath. Glancing up at the staring Wizarding folk leaders, the demon halfling sighed again, this time in exasperation. "Does no one have patience in this Era?"

Hermione opened her mouth to begin a lecture on modern culture figures when Tornaroes held up a hand, sweating slightly. "Don't answer that, please." The males let out muffledsighs of relief. No matter how much the woman matured, 'Mione never overcame her talent for putting others to sleep with just small talk.

Tora stepped up to the table, ready to explain. "My Clan -- the Vantressa -- and all the other demon Clans, originated from three Immortal beings. Their names would roughly translate in English to: Beautiful Sea, Shadowed Death, and Alluring Magic or Life Energy."

"So?" interrupted Harry, only to be shushed by Hermione, who was listening intently.

"Clan Vantressa is descended from Beautiful Sea, Clan Zamatrisma from Alluring Life Energy, with Shadowed Death's intermixed. The first two, Beauty female and Allure male, died in each other's arms. Shadow, the killer, was later sealed away by all threes' grandchildren."

The room was silent; no one but Tora knew how all this was connected with Voldemort. So Tora just continued, grateful for thenot-so-tense silence.

"Shadow was jealous of his friends, but that is a story for another time. My ancestor's name, Shadowed Death, is this," here she pointed to the paper's top part (beginning with 'X'), "written in our language. It is pronounced 'Xutsucie', modernly."

Tora paused, staring at the underlying writing. Hermione stared curiously at her, though didn't dare interrupt. A moment later, her amber gaze turned back to those watching her.

The youth's fist clenched, the only sign of her anger and irritation. "He is the reason we are hated, us Immortal creatures of so-called 'Darkness'. If Xutsucie is released, the Soulless will return. We have no choice; I am the only one who has the knowledge to seal him again. I'll go."

Despite her comrade's protests and declined offers of assistance, Tornaroes went on her mission. And failed terribly.

* * *

_August 28, 1996, Forbidden Forest – 11:15 PM_

Tornaroes lay, panting, on a moss-covered rock in the middle of the Forbidden Forest, suddenly awake from the too-real dream. Just what she needed -- more nightmarish memories of a future that could happen! If only those Occu-something lessons had actually helped… Organizing her thoughts and blocking out those be-damned voices would help her relax.

Said Voices heard her thoughts and purged her mind with commands incoherent to anyone who knew not the ancient language of Tora's great-grandfather Xhanmytsuo and his friends. The old bastard deserved what had happened to him, she knew, but the Voices insisted upon using his people's ancient language to speak even now, in the past.

**_Hello, Daughter of Xhutsu peoples…_**

**_…welcoming we are to you…_**

**_…know to know…_**

**_…hear to hear…_**

**_…tell to all and death be to you…_**

**_…remember well your objective…_**

Their usual greeting never changed; the last time had been a fluke, with the magic and death surrounding Hogwart's future ruins interfering with their speech, or her hearing of it. Now, deeply hidden within aDark forest and laying on a place where the purity of unicorn blood had once spilt in murder, Tora could make out their words just fine.

A shadowy female voice spoke next, the usual harmonious intertwined echo unexpectedly absent.

**_…You, Tora, are there…_**

**_…yet things changenot as you dawdle…_**

**_…Remembrance is absent to you…_**

**_…yet your powers return full force…_**

The echo was back as the Voices spoke as one again next.

**_What have you to say for self?_**

"Icrome zhutmie khrishno," Tora murmured to herself. The language she spoke was demonotic and had been forgotten for many thousands of years by humans and Light creatures over the ages. Some labeled Dark, such as the werewolf, instinctively knew what to say when speaking to one who knew it, or reverted to the hissing version modernly used by most snakes.

Icrome: holy defense  
Zhutmie: shadow banishment  
Khrishno: to **KNOW** and **REMEMBER** everything forgotten

Together they formed at basis of ancient spell casting used by creatures who feared Light before it was even necessary. Said spell was her answer; a banishment charm that would block the Voices for a time but also caused great pain now and again. Only to last until her power was fully restored, hopefully.

Screeching as they were herded and penned by invisible shepherds, the Voices sent one final warning.

_**Do not do as you wish to do.**_

_**…back to chart and enter…**_

_**…what has been cannot be reversed…**_

_**…fate to be no messed with…**_

_**…the Veil we will be!**_

_**…to have our desire, save those you wish but remember power they hold to you and above…**_

Tora screamed as well, and all the creatures of the Forbidden Forest heard. Those who had thought to eat the foolish one they thought mortal immediately turned to their hunting comrades with panicked eyes and cleared the surrounding area. To all those of Night and Fright, a demon, especially an aged halfling with a wizard father, would be respected lest the rath of both sides fall upon the purpertraitors.

The youth smiled even as the pain continued and stopped her screaming, seeing as all it did was hurt her throat. Her joy had reason, something she'd been waiting a month or so for.

Her powers were returning tenfold. She wouldn't need to worry over being ill prepared for some time, though her father's old wand would still be in use.

The pain began to fade, and Tornaroes fell into unconsciousness; the elemental magic of her kinds' needed a relaxed body to return to. She'd be out for sometime; hopefully before the green eyed man following her did anything foolish…

* * *

_August 29, 1996, Kitchens – 9:02 AM_

Remus Lupin sat in the bustling Kitchens, glancing around for the elder elf who had talked to him the day before. He hadn't dared ask anyone, and the house elves only glanced at him now and again, to refill his teacup (or in Dobby's case) to ask how Harry Potter was doing.

Truthfully, Dumbledore had kept most of the Order in the dark about the young man's condition, though the werewolf knew perfectly well. He wasn't over Sirius' death, and never would completely be, and had declined in a most… interesting letter coming to Number 12 Grimwald Place. Personally, Lupin could understand completely; if he'd had to spend the rest of the summer there, he'd have torn down the foul Black woman's portrait by hand and burned it the Muggle way.

Somehow, Harry had disappeared. Lupin, who knew most (save Dumbledore) what concerned his best friend's son, still didn't know where the old man had taken the boy. He would be at Hogwart's, Remus knew, but how he would get there was still a mystery.

Most interesting was the last Potter's room in the Dursely's house; everything was left intact, save Hedwig's missing cage. The snowy owl was also gone, and the photobook of Harry's family. Everything, from past school books to Dobby's gift of unmatching socks, was left in his trunk and scattered about the room as any teenager's might have been.

No one was worried; somehow the Headmaster had reassured everyone that the lad was fine and dandy, just recuperating. Lupin couldn't wait to see Harry again, and surprise him with the happy news of his new job: head of the Dueling Club and DA assistant.

A wise looking elf walked up to him, brownish skin the same color as the one he'd spoken to before, though his one was youthful enough. Glazed brown eyes puffy from crying greeted Lupin as the house elf nodded, bowing before the tired wizard.

"If master sir is looking for Gypsy, master sir is too late. Timps is sorry to say that grandfather Gypsy has died. Does master sir want something else?"

Gypsy. So that was the old one's name. But dead? Lupin had never seen a dead house elf, besides the head hangings on the walls in the old Black Manner. It wasn't everyday that one died, least of all at Hogwarts. The being must have been ancient, to pass away in such a short time.

"No thank you," Lupin stated to the grieving house elf, leaving the Kitchens behind. He didn't let his disappointment show; Timps seemed to have enough on his mind, as did the others. There were dishes to be cleared and cleaned from the teacher's breakfast; no time for a 'master sir' leaving to be noticed.

Frowning to himself as the fruit bowl portrait closed behind him, Lupin tried to puzzle out the cryptic meaning of the old house elf's words. He knew they were meant about his new friend Tora; the rest gave him a headache.

He really didn't have time to muse the mutterings of dying house elves; the full moon was soon, and he was just too tired… His room, unknowingly a hallway from Tora's, was inviting, as was the bed, and Remus J. Lupin fell asleep within moments of laying down.

* * *

_August 30, 1996, Forbidden Forest – Before Dawn_

Green eyes stared at a prone figure, dew sticking to her hair and moonlight (nearly full) illuminated her pale face, statue like in the twilight. She had slept, unmoving, for well over 24 hours after her screams of pain had begun. She hadn't so much as stirred, even when songbirds thought her clothes buckles a good perch.

Something was wrong.

It had never taken Tora so long to awaken from a refueling, the green eyed man well knew. Something –or someone – was interfering with her Awakenment. He bet it was that odd wizard he heard the forest animals praise so much, as they did a half-giant man.

Making a rash decision --as always-- the green eyed man raced off at speeds humans were incapable to see toward Hogwarts, leaving the unprotected body of his long time friend behind. Little did he know, but she had twitched just as he'd left.

Soon she'd be up and moving freely again, without the worry of invading Voices for quite some time. Hopefully she'd stop her former watching was making a huge mistake. If not, everything shewas in the past for would be on the line.

* * *

_August 30, 1996, Dumbledore's Office – 7:56 AM_

It started out as a normal day. Preparations for the students' arrivals were almost complete; the only thing left was to recast the protection spells and check the wards a fourth time. And though one staff member had been missing for two days, after leaving a message of course, everything was perfect.

That was until two hours after Dumbledore rose from sleep. To suddenly have a wand pointed in front of his nose while busy with paper work in his office was nothing new (surprisingly), but the wielder was.

Standing before the Headmaster of Hogwarts, pointing his spell caster in a threatening manner, was a twenty-something year old man. Messy reddish-orange hair the color of raging flames fell down his back and hid most of his face, the only thing keeping it contained a worn green piece of lace obviously well used. Dragonic deep green eyes --darker than emerald but still jewel like-- glared at his from under long bangs, set into a narrow, delicate boned face.

Dumbledore had seen many people in all his years, but never someone so handsomely pretty and fierce all at once. As if hearing his thoughts, the man began to growl: a low sound deep in his throat, and a seemingly natural noise to his vocal cords.

Moving with the grace born of a wild animal, the fire headed man stalked around the desk separating them, Dumbledore's chair turning at the other male's wand point as it floated a few inches from the floor. Not knowing what to do – the wandless magic used to keep him still unfamiliar to the aged man –, Dumbledore stared curiously at the animalistic male now inches before him.

"What have you done to her?" the man growled, a clawed hand reaching toward the wizard's neck. "She has been in pain since coming here. Again I ask you, what have you done to her?"

Up close his face was feminine and fine boned, as if a stature of an artist in love had come to life. He was actually very pretty, creamy skin tanned a nice brown – almost bronze; a figure ideal to paint. The man's growl just deepened as the foreign magic intensified, catching the elder man's breath.

"What did you do?" the man growled, face inches from his own, hand held out to choke or slice Dumbledore's neck with those sharp claws.

Time stopped.

"Hmmm? What are you doing, Krisma?"

And the frozen silence broke.

"Why are you here?" the female voice asked as the one addressed whiped around defensively, forgetting the prone figure behind him for only a moment. Just enough time for Dumbledore to assess the magic used on his self and blast it away with a burst of raw power.

Drawing his wand, the Hogwart's Headmaster pointed the elegant wooden stick in the middle of other male's back. If a Stunning or Decapitation spell was used at such point blank rang, it could cause serious damage. What the aged man didn't notice were the surprised looks on both persons' faces before him, nor did he see the smile playing on a young woman's lips.

Tornaroes Valorence, assistant and substitute teacher for all subjects, stood before the animalistic man, hand firmly gripping his shoulder as she turned that odd golden gaze of hers to the Headmaster. "Please put your wand away, Professor. Krisma here was only trying to help me, it seems."

Dumbledore glanced between the two, not sure what their connection was. For the past two days she had been missing --who knows where-- and when she finally returned, a cat man had attacked him. At least she had stopped Dumbledore from being either maimed or killed (supposedly).

Krisma's cat attributes retreated as his shoulders slumped under Tora's scolding gaze, a surprise for the Headmaster that the man would be so under the youth's seeming control. His red hair remained, though a subdued color slightly duller than the Weaslys' instead of almost blinding orange fire mixed in with something similar to engine red, as did the startling green orbs not quite jewel like and so deep it seemed one could drown within their depths.

Dropping his wand purposefully as if to put it away, the Headmaster waited to see how the man reacted. He did nothing, just stared at the office carpet in apparent shame, glancing at the gloved hand that held him immobile every few seconds. Dumbledore took that moment to notice just how thin the young one was, though his former assaultent was far better fed than Tora had been. Was he from the future as well, come to look for his apparent mistress? A possibility to ponder more in-depth later on.

"Lord Albus," Tora addressed her current employer, "this is Katatrisma Zamagain, an old friend of mine. We… worked together during the war, though it seems he has forgotten himself." Tora glanced sternly at Krisma, clearly disappointed. The man didn't cringe away as Dumbledore would have thought, but met her one-eyed gaze definately.

Tornaroes just smiled slyly, though only Krisma recognized it for what it was and began to sweat. Her ideas involving misbehaving Protectors in her former Squadron were never good, and that included himself most of the time.

"He will have to stay here, of course. Can't have a time traveler wandering around, especially one I know so well." Dumbledore silently agreed. "And he will have to work for his room and bored, of course." The Headmaster nodded, wondering what the youth was getting at. The only open position in faculty and serving staff was…

A similar crossed the elder man's face, though it quickly reverted to a twinkle eyed, not-quite-smirk. It was the best he could do, to keep up his grandfatherly senile image. "Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Of course, my dear."

There was a curious thing, though, and the usually discreet man had to ask, "Why not take the job yourself, Ms. Valorence? You'll certainly get better quarters and respect." He didn't mention pay; they both had already agreed that keeping her secret was payment enough.

Tora smiled, having expected this. "More freedom to move around, my Lord. And I will not be tied down to grading papers and preparing a curriculum as my dear Krisma will." She smiled sweatly at said man and he flinched slightly, openly glaring at the woman but not daring to object. He knew the youth well enough to know not to contradict any of her decisions she felt important; you would only dig a deeper hole for yourself.

Dumbledore nodded, agreeing completely, though there was one issue he needed to clear. "You shall need to change your appearance and names, as well as have Mr. Zamagain take a standard test to assume his teaching level."

Tora traded an impish grin with Krisma as the Headmaster turned to get the necessary paperwork for her subordinate's stay, the youth released the man from her hold. He rolled his shoulder experimentally and smiled when he found nothing bruised or broken. It seemed she wouldn't punish disobedience before this much younger version of the Phoenix Defenses' second-in-command; a good thing for him, as he wanted to use his arm the next day.

Not that she was abusive of those under her command, Tora was just extremely strictand never used more force than she knew the person she was dealing with could handle. Sensing his thoughts, said youth glanced at him without turning her head, and he knew she was using that cursed eye of hers. He settled to behave himself, mentally grumbling as he always did.

Turning back to Dumbledore, she stated, "No need, Lord Albus. Just wait until September First; everything will be worked out by then. Now, if you will please excuse me, I shall start on that right now…"

She bowed and took the door out, leaving a nervous full demon much younger than herself (and from a different Clan) to take a test he could easily pass. Now there was the matter of his room and outfitting…

Lost in thoughts of preparation, Tora hadn't noticed the paintings emptying as she walked down the corridor. They followed her down the stone hallways and across the school, wanting to know what exactly the mysterious presence of someone like her being excepted by the Royal Light Hogwart's Castle. Had she known, Tora would have ignored the attention anyway, used to stares as she was.

Little did the unsuspecting students, new and old, know, Dumbledore had been correct in his assumption: This would be a most interesting year.

* * *

A/N: Harry and the gang come next! September first it is! Finally, the Heirs (two, at least) come to Hogwarts. And if you haven't guessed who they are (which is quite obvious), too bad for you! 

_Li _


	6. Chapter Six: New Age of Meetings

**xxTorn Rose of Ages Pastxx**

**_vv _Chapter Six: New Age of Meetings _vv  
_(Li)**

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, but I do own the Ocs, such as Tornaroes and Jumblejones.

Summary: -AU- In a distant age where the Soulless rule and those who practise the Light and protect the Hogwarts House Heirs are hunted like Muggle animals, one House protector is sent to the past to save the life of a long-dead Ravenclaw Heiress... Tora is back, along with her good friend and new Defence Proffesor Krisma. The plot thickens...

Warnings: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince spoilers.

-----

_Summer Holiday and September 1, 1996; with Harry Potter_

Harry Potter spent the first two weeks of his summer vacation as usual: holed up in his small room, coming out only to eat and use the fecilities. Still upset over his godfather, Sirius Black's, death, the sixteen year old wizard looked a bit worse for wear when Dumbledore came to pick him up on the 30th of June. The time inbetween was spent in Daigon Alley under another name; brand new things were in order, and helped forget the pressure building.

After a nice -and amusing- chat with the Dursleys, Harry's first experience with side-long Apparation, and a bit of a misunderstanding by one Horace Slughorn, they arrived early in the Burrow's backyard, where Harry was to spend the rest of his summer. A spiderweb infested storage shed chat later, Hogwart's Headmaster left his young charge in the Weasley's capable hands.

The rest of the summer passed by in a fast, happy daze, until Septemeber 1st at last arrived. The Boy-Who-Lived stepped out of the Ministry car, through Platform 9 3/4, and onto the scarlet Hogwart's Express without insident, only to find himself sharing a back-of-the-train compartment with Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom while Ron and Hermione had Prefect duty.

All that had happened -all that was happening- was a bit overwelmbing when you thought about it, Harry mused. Fourmurders on his honor, and what to show for it? Five narrow escapes from death set up by Voldemort. Now with all those rumors of the Chosen One nonsense and the Daily's Prophet's daily death reports, he really wanted something productive to do...

"Are we still doing D.A. meetings, Harry?" a dreamy voice asked out of the blue, interupting his dark thoughts. Luna was reading _The Quibbler_ with perticular looking spectacles balanced neatly across her nose: plastic lenses set inthick black frames.

"No point now we've got rid of Umbridge, is there?" Harry muttered, staring at the advanced book of hexes and jinxes in his lap, a belated birthday present from all his Dumbledore's Army students.

"I liked the D.A.! I learned loads from you!" cut in Neville from his crouching place under the seat as he tried to find his toad, Trevor, who had a thing for freedom.

"I enjoyed the meetings, too," said Luna serenly. "It was like having friends."

Mentally, Harry squirmed a bit, uncomfortable with the dreamy girl's blunt, embarrasing honesty. He felt a bit guilty for not thinking to continue his tuturing sessions with various Houses and years, but he'd had _more important_ things on his mind, or so it seemed.

He was saved from responding by a group of nervous fourth-year girls whispered and giggled beyond the glass to his right.

"You ask him!"

"No you!"

"I'll do it!"

One of the strangers, a bold looking girl with large dark eyes, prominate chin and long black hair pushed her way through her friends and jerked the sliding door open.

"Hi, Harry. I'm Romilda, Romilda Vane," she said confidently, ignoring the others in the compartment for the moment. "Why don't you come sit in our comparment? You don't have to sit with _them_." The girl named Romilda glanced distaintfully at Neville, who was just sitting up, toad in hand, and Luna, who looked odder than normal with her magnifying Spectrespecs glasses.

A feeling of irriatation welled up in his chest as he stared at the girl coldly. If there was one thing he always did, it was defend his friends and loved ones. "They're friends of mine."

"Oh," said Romilda, looking surprised and taken aback. "Oh. Okay."

She withdrew instantly, her friends following solomely behind her, sliding the door closed as she exited.

"People expect you to have cooler friends than us," commented Luna vagely, looking up from her father's magazine.

"You are cool," Harry stated shortly, then pointed out, "None of them were at the Ministry. They didn't fight with me." And he was proud of the mystic Luna and shy Neville for doing just that.

"That's a very nice thing to say," said the light haired girl, beaming. Then she went back to reading _The Quibbler_, glasses pushed farther up her nose.

"We didn't face _him_, though," said Neville, looking a bit anxious. "You did. You should've heard Gran talking about you. '_That Harry Potter's got more backbone than the whole Ministry of Magic put together!_' She'd give anything to have you as a grandson..." The chubby boy looked down.

Harry laughed nervously, and, not wanting to see his friend upset, changed the subject to OWL results.

As Neville conversed on about his grades -"Got an Acceptable in Transfigeration. You think I can take NEWT level?"- with an odd comment from Luna, the Boy-Who-Lived's thoughts wandered to the Prophecy, his revelation to Ron and Hermione, and most importantly, the possiblity of selfconscious, clumbsy Neville being in his place...

"You alright, Harry? You don't look so good," asked Neville, peering at his friend's suddenly pale face.

"Sorry-I-" stuttered the boy as he started, thinking of some excuse.

"Wrackspurt got you?" asked Luna sympatheticly, joining the round faced boy in his staring and looking obserd in her multi-colored spectales.

"I-what?" Harry blinked in confusion.

"A Wrackspurt... They're invisible. They float in your ears and make your brain go fuzzy," she explained. "I thought I felt one zooming around in here." She then proceeded to flap her hands around in the air, as though trying to ward off large invisible mothes.

Harry and Neville caught each others eyes and, trying to hold back their laughter, changed the subject to Quidditch.

The weather outside the compartment window was as patchy and foggy as it had been all summer, blocking out the sunlight. It seemed out of the oridinary, the chilling mist, as it was nearing the end of summer when the foggy season usually started. Hermione and Ron had entered the compartment just as it was clearing up a bit, and the group chatted on about a variety of subjects -having already changed into their robes.

As they neared Hogsmeade station, a thrid-year girl barged into their compartment, out of breathe. Harry just hoped she wasn't like the rude, black haired fourth-year from earlier (he'd forgotten her name).

"I'm supposed to deliver these to Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley, Luna Lovegood and H-Harry Potter," she gasped out, turning scarlett as she noticed the last one she'd named right before her. Pulling out five rolls of parchment roughly tyed with old bits oflaced ribbon, each with the name of the individual scribed on the side.

The group took their own from the trembling third-year's hand, looking it over in confusion as the girl tumbled back out.

"What is it?" asked Neville, purplexed.

"An invitation?" mused Luna, who had already opened hers. Ron and Hermione peered over the dreamy girls shoulders to get a better look.

_**Miss Luna Lovegood of Ravenclaw House,**_

_**Please join Proffesors Lupin and Valorence for a meeting in the Defence Hall after the welcome feast.**_

_**Filius Flitwick, your Head of House**_

The rest said roughly the same thing, changingly only for their name and Head of House (Gryffindor).

"What'd you wreckon this means? Proffesor Lupin's teaching Defence?"

"What's the Defence Hall?"

"Who's Proffesor Valorence?"

"Oh, don't you lot _read_?" Receaving blank stares and a serene smile from her friends, Hermione sighed, wondering why the Sorting Hat had insisted upon Gryffindore and not Ravenclaw, where there were bound to be less dunderheads.

"The Defence Hall was used in times of war before Hogwarts was founded as a school. It's been hidden for over five hundred years, since there's been no use for it, and since it's quite outdated. I don't know how they know where it is, but just think of all the historical value that could be in there!" Hermione went off into lala-land as the males blinked and Luna continued to read her magazine.

Quite a year it was to be, and yet the Fates weren't even warming up.

-----

_September 1, Great Hall -- 7:02 PM_

The express arrived on time, and the carrage ride of just as usual (with both Luna and Harry greating the thestrals this time). The invited group sat together, pondering their letters before conversation became light hearted once again.

As the students filed in through the open doors, Dumbledore watched their number, rubbing his charred hand absently. The glamour he'd placed on it three weeks ago was wearing off and he'd have to renew it as soon as he could in his office, but watching the innocence of tomarrow was much more important at the moment.

The Headmaster idly wandered where Tora was, signaling the feast to start despite one teacher's absence. Glancing around at his staff, Dumbledore noticed the one who'd attacked him -Krisma, wasn't it?- talking to Reamus Lupin, who seemed to be trying to get the Potions Master into the discussion. Chuckling to himself, he hadn't noticed the Sorting's end or his que for starting his start-of-term speach.

"To our new students, welcome! To our old students, welcome back! Another year full of magical edication awaits you," he began, sneeking glances around the room at what various students were doing and almost smiled broadly as he saw Harry chatting with his friends, a familair note in hand. Ah, what surprises awaited him when they entered that room, or so Krisma had said after convincing his fellow teachers to use that room again.

"...and Mr.Filch, our caretaker has asked me to say that there is a blanket ban on any joke items bought at the shop called Weasleys' Wizarding Weezes.

"Those wishing to play for House Quidditch teams should give their names to their Heads of House as usual. We are looking for new Quidditch commentators, who should do likewise.

"We are please to welcome two new members of staff this year, and one returning to us after a short leave. Proffesor Lupin," the werewolf stood, a bit unsturdly, to a medium amount of applause, "who will be continuing the Defence Advancement club started last year by our own Harry Potter." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled madly as all attention turned to the Gryffindore table, more spucificly an uncomfortable looking teen at it's center.

"A new face joining us now is Proffesor Katatrisma, who has been kind enough to concent to teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts, and-"

The Headmaster was interupted as the Great Hall's doors burst open to admit entrence to a panting, black clad figure. All wands were pointed to the intruder as he/she caught his/her breathe and sighed as he/she noticed the threatening possions of all teachers and prefects.

"Really, Tora told me I'd receave a better welcome..." came a muttered voice as the figure removed her hood.

There stood a chubby, sun-blonde woman with pink cheeks and a charming smile. Her deep blue eyes twinkled a little as Dumbledore's did, but in a more relaxed way. She looked in her mid-thirties, though you couldn't always tell in the wizarding world, and assessed the students staring wide eyed at her as a mother would her young.

"Sorry I'm late, Headmaster. The missave my daughter sent got most in the fog and it didn't arrive until late this afternoon." She smile widely at the old man, winking descreately and a look of understandingpassed fleetingly crossed his face.

"No need to apologize, Ms.Valorence. I did call upon you on such short notice," replied the Headmaster as the discized Tora walked up to the teachers table and took as seat next to a welcoming Proffesor Katatrisma.

"As I was saying," Dumbledore cleared his throat, gaining the Hall's attention. "We have with us another new adition to our faculty: Proffesor Valorence, who will co-run the Defence Advancement club with Proffesor Lupin and substitute when any other is called away."

So ended his speach, leaving four extremely confused teens waiting for a guide to the Defence Hall, and one not-so-sane fifth-year staring off into space, humming absently to herself.

-----

_September 1, 1996, Opening Corridor (First Floor) -- 9:20 PM_

Seven students remained behind as the Great Hall emptied out, five staring at the other two in shock. Luna, Neville, Ginny, Ron, Hermione were those Harry had expected, since they'd gone to the Department of Mysteries with him, but not Cho Chang or Susan Bones. It was surprising, also, that a Proffesor in charge of Defence Advancement wasn't the first teacher to approach the confused group.

"My, my, Mr. Potter," drolled the voice of Severus Snape, Hogwart's Potion's Master. "Shouldn't you and your group be off to the common rooms or are you planning another midnight escapade?"

Harry stiffened asNeville cowered behind Hermione who was having a hard time holding Ron back from attacking, said red head burning with fury. Cho shifted nervously and Susan did the same, glancing around warily as Luna acted, well, Luna-like.

"I beleive that would be 20 points from Gryffindore for loitering," the greasy man continued, seeming to enjoy the group's combined reactions.

The students were saved from detention or more loses to their respective Houses' point ranks by a soothing female voice just as Ronald Weasley broke his friend's hold and would have lunged at the Potion's Master. "Now, now, Proffesor Snape. As much as I admire your enthusiasm for renforcing the school rules, this group has broken none that I know of."

Snape turned his sneered attention to the approaching blonde haired, motherly woman: Proffesor Valorence. Harry felt a vague sense of respect rise up in his breast as the Hufflepuffish woman stood up calmly to Hogwart's most resented faculty member.

"Ah, yes, Madam Valorence." The greasy man seemed a bit wary of the smiling blonde for some reason, though he hid it well under the cold bitterness of his every day mask. "Curious that your last name is that of our prevous guest, Miss Tora Valorence..." He seemed to be suggesting something.

The substitute teacher's smile only broadened. "You've met my daughter, have you? Yes, well, I sent her to scout out the offer while I was away on business. As you can see, she found Hogwart's school quite an exceptable place."

Snape sniffed and turned, black robes billowing, as a chatting Lupin and Katatrisma walked toward them. Both men were called out of their talk was Proffesor Valorence almost litterally pounced the younger.

"Krisma, dear! Been a while, love!"

The students just blinked as the red head proceeded to pry the older off himself. "Only been ten minutes, Valorence. No need for such behavoir, either," commented Proffesor Katatrisma.

Proffesor Valorence pouted a bit. "I've told you to call me Admissa, Adelais, love. We need no formalities, you know."

"Yes, yes, but around students..." Katatrisma muttered. Valorence became proffesional a moment later.

"Oh, forgot about them," she murmured to herself, then addressed the group of bewildered students. "Hello there, dears. I bet you're wondering why you were instructed here?"

The lot nodded. "As am I," commented Proffesor Lupin, looking just as confused as his former -and once again- charges.

"Ah, sorry. Tora didn't breif you?" Valorence seemed vaguely confused.

"Well, she did mention something-" the werewolf admitted.

"Then there shouldn't be a problem," concluded the blonde, looking over the DA members with surprisingly hard eyes.

"The D.A. shall be continued by the group of us. Within the students, we need responsible members from all Houses, since there shall be no need of diversion or racism between peers. You all were reccomended by either your Heads of House or from information gathered from other teachers." Her gaze never wavered. "All gathered have experience in the area you shall be assigned in."

Her gaze sofened, and she smiled warmly, a great contrast to her proffestional face. "If you will now follow me to the Defence Hall, we can continue there..."

Hermione raised her hand before the Proffesor had a chance to lead them away. "Where is the Defence Hall, Proffesor? In _Hogwarts, A History_ it says it was hidden in 1378 and it's location lost."

Valorence cut the curious bookworm off with a held up palm and amused smile. "I know because I do, Miss Granger. And I must say, you would have been a fine Ravenclaw, from what I've seen and heard so far."

Hermione colored at the teacher's praise. Distracted, she didn't think to ask again.

"Now, this way, please."

The lot followed, somewhat reluctantly, as Katatrisma took the back, glancing over his shoulder at Lupin. Werewolf senses were sharp and able to pick up a demon's precence as well as one of its own, but only the ones who excepted the wolf truely knew. The man standing silently behind him did everything to hide from a part of himself, which it seemed only the Wolfsbane Potion helped with.

"We'd best follow, Mr. Lupin." The Proffesor, interupted from unknown thoughts, nodded and followed.

Krisma only sighed, wondering why Tornaroes insisted upon dealing with human and halfbreed matters when she didn't seem so human-like herself.

-----

A/N: Yeah, Yeah I know it's been a long time since I updated. The next few will be random. Any suggestions for future chapters are appresiated.

Bai!_  
Li_


	7. Chapter Seven: New Age of Maddness

**xxTorn Rose of Ages Pastxx**

**_vv _Chapter Seven: New Age of Madness _vv  
_(Li)**

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, but I do own the OCs, such as Tornaroes and Krisma.

Summary: -AU- In a distant age where the Soulless rule and those who practice the Light and protect the Hogwarts House Heirs are hunted like Muggle animals, one House protector is sent to the past to save the life of a long-dead Ravenclaw Heiress... The school year has started, and with the student's introduction to the new defense Professor and his assistant/substitute teacher, classes begin...

Warnings: Half-Blood Prince Spoilers coming soon...

----

_September 2, 1996, Defense Against the Dark Art's Office -- 2:04 AM_

Krisma, known by the students and staff as Professor Adelais Katatrisma of Defense Against the Dark Arts, lounged in his chair as he watched his former superior and long time friend wear a path in the stone floor, obviously deep in thought. Tornaroes, alias Professor Admissa Valorence of the D.A. and Substitute, passed in her pacing only to turn and glare at the male as he cleared his throat.

"Admissa, huh?" the younger demon asked, an amused gleam to his eye.

Tora snorted. "I had to come up with something, you know. Not like it isn't a real name."

"What was yours before, anyway?" Krisma asked, not quite sure if he should. Her past -and future- was a delicate subject, even between the two of them.

The youth stopped mid step in her renewed pacing, turning to face him with an unreadable expression. "No," she replied shortly, deep blue eyes darkening until they bordered on the ocean depths Krisma so feared.

He gulped, sensing danger. "Sorry," was his muttered apology, turning his gaze away.

Tora just nodded sharply and continued her thought filled routine.

She'd stayed in her thirty-something Professor form for no apparent reason other than discretion. She couldn't just go around as a strange sixteen year old with blue hair now that Hogwarts students were back, even if she was currently in the private rooms adjoined to Krisma's own. (Some sense of humor Lord Albus had.)

"What do you remember," Tora began, startling the red head from the book he'd been reading, "about your foster father, Lord Azguaden?"

The question was unexpected and unwelcome, the equivalent of what he'd asked her moments before, and Krisma stiffened. "What does _he_ have to do with anything?" That bastard was the last thing he wanted to speak of at the moment, now that he was finally free of him.

"So you remember every thing, then?" Tora's eyes were covered by blond bangs, tone expressionless.

"Yeah," Krisma replied softly, eyes closed tightly. The mental images speaking of such a waste of demon ancestry were more unwelcome than just hearing his name spoken aloud. How did his fellow professor know of him, anyway?

"Ever wish to forget?" the half demon asked, though she already knew the answer.

"Yeah," he repeated, staring blankly at his hands, no seeing the direction their conversation was taking.

"Wonder what would happen if your wish came true?"

"Yeah." His eyes widened, realization evident in their red depths.

"You'd regret it, wouldn't you? Not knowing your name, the happy times you'd spent with your family -if you had any-, or the heritage you gave up?" Tora was speaking more to herself now than to the younger demon.

"I would." Krisma looked up into the blond woman's distant eyes and took his chance. "What's it like?"

Still distracted, Tora answered absently, truthfully, "Horrid. No, such a word couldn't describe the sensation." She stared at him with haunted eyes. "No human word can describe it."

The red haired man blinked, surprised by her answer, and lay a comforting had on his Sergeant's shoulder. "So it's true, then?" he asked softly, hoping for a better reaction.

"What is?" Tora asked, snapping out of her trance.

Krisma didn't seem to notice. "About what happened when the Council asked _him_," he referred to his foster father -if you could call that bastard something so absurd- Lord Azguaden of Missasing, "to find you and-"

"Just because I lost my memory all those years ago and you retained yours from my time because of that stupid bond doesn't mean you can help me," Tora snapped forcefully, pulling her arm our of Krisma's grasp as her form turned back into that of the original Tornaroes. Her necklace, forgotten since her arrival, glowed pale silver and became the only seal keeping her infamous tempered powers in check.

"But it _does_, Tora, it _does_," the fire cat muttered as his friend stormed out of the room. "I just hope you can see soon that you aren't alone, this time or last."

----

_September 2, 1996, Department of Mysteries -- 3:25 AM_

'_This place really hasn't changed. Even the wards are the same_,' thought Tora as she entered the Department of Mystery's Hall of Doors. She'd come here often over two hundred years ago with her aunt. Silvana, her mother's older sister, had been sealed by those she'd worked with; Unspeakable wizards frightened by the full demon's powers.

"Don't think about it. It happened a long time ago," she told herself, leaning against a tightly locked door. "It's not as if she'd still have any consciousness left. No doubt she's a vegetable in that cell of hers." Those hurtful, pessimistic words were only said to console herself that the woman wouldn't be suffering anymore.

The creaking of a door awoke the youth from deep thoughts, a shuffle of feet and groan of pain following. Someone was behind the cracked door to her right; hopefully no one with a death wish, since Tora was not in the mood to play nice.

"Who's there?" she whispered foolishly, throwing her voice so it sounded across the hallway. It wouldn't do to get attacked if the stranger was hostile.

"That you, Thorn, dear?" asked a familiar female voice from beyond the door. Tora just realized where that door went. A place she had been so many times before, the reason her aunt was sealed. Where the Voices had originated.

A room containing Silvana's prison. Better known as the Death Room.

Tora was silent for many long moments, debating whether or not to reply. Finally, a decision was made and she put her drawn wand in its holster. "Aye. It is I, Silvana." She spoke in Anglo-Saxon, just as her aunt had before.

"Thorn, dear. How long was I away?" came the raspy voice of her released family member. "It seems to have been a long while."

"The year, according to the mortals with magic, is 1996. You've missed much," Tora paused, but said the word she thought she'd stumble on after a moment of hesitation, "Auntie."

"Ah," Silvana sighed. "I take it they rule now, don't they?"

"Aye," her niece agreed. "Not many know of our kind, now, either." Curious, she asked, "How did you get free? I saw the shields and Binds cast on that cage of yours; it looked impossible to break."

"Someone penetrated the defenses," Silvana said simply as Tora gaped. "Wanted to get out -a strong will, that one- and I helped him. Somehow..."

The door to the Death Room created open and out stumbled her aunt, not looking like her aunt at all. Far from it, in fact.

Tora stared at the man in horror. "What-" She could guess, but denial was hard to overcome, at the moment. "Who was he?"

"Is-" Silvana coughed, her voice from a dark man's mouth. Definitely human, and a wizard, too. "Could use some help..."

Tora caught her as the demoness in a male body collapsed. As a dead wait, (s)he was heavy, but the youth managed with ease. It payed to have enhanced strength.

'_I have to get us out of here,_' was her only thought. There was only one place she knew no one would dare harm her man-possessing aunt, let alone another of their kind sense her in her weakened state.

'_It's the only option, as much as I hate to admit it. And I'll have to Shadow Walk again, even though it has been unusually tiring._' Because I haven't been using my Darker heritage nearly enough, Tora decided.

Stalking into the shadows, Tornaroes found a good corner and stepped through, into the In-between, where she and her kind felt the most at home. Now to find that sent of Wild and Gray (the only human words that could describe what she unconsciously sensed).

She stood in a clearing, in a forest who's trees let almost no light fall to the ground. The Forbidden Forest, near where she was stay, Hogwarts, where none of the animals would dare attack one of them, was the safest place, after all.

"Don't worry," Tora whispered to her unconscious relative. "I'll summon someone to watch over you."

Laying the dark haired body down on a pile of leaves, absently clearing away the harmful things with her internal power, stood a ways way, near the edge of the clearing. It would be tiring, but what else could she do? Silvana couldn't be alone as she was, and Krisma would be too busy to watch her for her.

"**Hear my call, ye of depth and Darkness**," she chanted in the Old Tongue, silent power radiating around her. Thankfully the Forest himself blocked out her energy from being sensed by anyone in the castle. "**Whom have been with me through thick and thin. Serve me now, Servant of my Shadows, I ask of you!**

"**Unto us seek meaning and thus be given understanding!**" She took a deep breath and bellowed, "**Kahna Ophreenx Mrish Nor!**"

The last was the Old Language. It meant:

Kahna: Take form/ transform/ become one  
Ophreenx: servant chosen to best suit master's needs/ exclusive person for a task  
Mrish Nor: Oh one who serves/chooses wisely.

These words were picked for such a spell long before she was born. Now she only hoped the one she actually _trusted_ would come; and old friend who she'd be glad to see.

A figure, cloaked in black, knelt before her as the darkness and shadows called by her performance of power evaporated. His pitch black hair, long and loose, pooled on the ground behind him. He looked straight down, eyes closed, and stance relaxed.

"You called for me, Mistress?" asked a low, purring voice. He wasn't doing so on purpose; his voice was naturally -how you say- sexy?

"Rise, Keir," Tora ordered, face an emotionless mask. Inwardly she was glad to see him, but she wouldn't let it show.

He did as ordered, head bowed still.

"Look at me."

His gaze, blood red with slightly slit pupils met her own golden. He was a beautiful man, in an aristocratic sense, and unusually pale. Black robes standard and plane, but made of a material found only in demon villages, were custom made to accent his well built body. All in all, he would've fit in well with a group of Slytherins.

"What do you wish, **mistress**?" he asked with a fanged smile. He was a demivam, a vampire who'd drunken willingly-given demon blood straight from person. There weren't many, but the ones who existed were bound to the blood giver.

It was her blood she'd given him when he'd almost died from over-exposure to sunlight on her former guardian, the Lord Ziraggan of Missasing's (Azguaden's older brother), orders. This had happened after she'd lost her memory, so she could recall it easily.

"Protect her," she pointed to the prone figure of Sirius Black, whom her aunt was possessing, "him, whatever. Just guard that person and nurse her back to health."

"Yes, mistress," Keir said without a hint of obedience. "I'll need a snack, though, mistress. You've starved me for over two hundred years."

Another thing about demon blood to vampires-turned-demivam: it was addicting. In exchange for their fill, they'd follow their giver's orders. Also, they could only drink from the bloodline of their giver. It was restricting, but it was just how it was.

"Fine," Tora said stiffly, offering her wrist. "Eat up, Keir."

"Yes, milady. Might I say you look absolutely _delicious_?" He bit down gently before she could scold him.

Tora just stood their, studying the forest, as if it was every day that a vampire sucked greedily at her wrist, taking in more blood than should be humanly possible. Thankfully, she wasn't all that human.

"Ah," Keir sighed in contentment, wiping away the blood from his lips where he'd been sloppy. His fang marks on her wrist healed instantly, the darkness in her veins making up for the lost blood. "I've had my fill. Leave me to my task now."

Tora stared at him for a moment, before turning away and kneeling by her aunt one last time. "Very well, Keir. Take care of him. If not, you know the consequences."

"Yes," Keir said, not even flinching.

Tornaroes rose, and started back towards the castle. She only paused once, and with out turning around said, "It's good to see you again, Keir."

"You as well, mistress." He gave her back a fanged smile. "You as well."

She only nodded, leaving her trusted servant alone with her near-helpless aunt. She had a class of third years to prepare for the next day. Oh, potions with Hufflepuff and Slytherin would be so much fun.

----

_September 5, 1996, Defense Classroom -- 10:00 AM_

The first days of classes passed as normally as one might expect. Sixth year students were prepped for NEWTS, though a while away, and expected to do ridiculous amounts of homework. Hermione, being the overachiever that she was, had it worst off.

After the indescribable DA meeting in the Defense Hall, the group avoided Professors Katatrisma and Valorence surprisingly easily. Defense Against the Dark Arts and Potions were on the same day for Hermione, Harry, Ron and Neville -Valorence taught NEWT Potions, since Snape had Apprenticeship Potions (for Potion Master and Healer candidates, something that had not been offered since the 18th century).

The Trio arrived early; no seats but those taken up by a group of Slytherins, led by Malfoy and Parkinson, and an unrecognizable girl in the back were taken. Sitting near the front, on the Gryffindor side of course, Hermione began talking to them about -God help them- _homework_.

Various other students of their respective Houses filed in, taking seats and waiting for the teacher, who never came. Lavender and Pavarti were giggling about something when the Slytherin group burst out laughing.

Turning to stare at the sneering members of the Snake House, Malfoy repeated his remark louder, for all the room to hear.

"I heard that mudblood Professor couldn't find a job anywhere else and came here hoping the cursed position would kill him!" said Draco. The Slytherins laughed again.

An unnoticed shadow suddenly loomed over the amused group, and Professor Valorence was there. She smiled cheerily at them, seeming to take no offense to the nasty things they said of her colleague, and if not for the slight twitching of her pale eyebrow, looked much like a mother regarding wayward children.

"Please keep your comments for the common room and private time, Mr. Malfoy. Is it not impolite for one such as yourself to talk when one should be paying attention, and learning?" Her remarks were calm and in a friendly tone, but were just as biting as Snape's could be.

They hit home, too, as Malfoy colored and his friends remained silent.

Satisfied that he would be silent for the moment, Professor Valorence stood before the class and addressed them, "Welcome to your sixth year of Defense Against the Dark Arts. Professor Katatrisma, for whom I am filling in, is feeling unwell.

"This semester, we shall be doing two things: practicing silent spells," many students seemed excited by this, and the ones from the D.A. thought it would be useful, "and learning the theory of various rituals."

Hermione raised her hand, and when called upon asked, "What sorts of rituals, Professor?"

Valorence's smile broadened. "All sorts, Ms. Granger. I'm sure you'll find them fascinating, as will you all." She swept her arms around the room, indicating the whole class.

"Now up with all of you. Up, up! Seats will be assigned, and they'll be no switching unless a problem arises." Though seeming Hufflepuff-ish at first, her students would soon learn never to mock the name Valorence or end up as her 'examples'.

Grudgingly the Griffindors rose first and made their way to the back of the class, keeping to the left -their side, since the Slytherins had the right, closest to the door. Blaise Zabini stood first, followed by his fellows of the Snake House, and silently waited to the right.

"When I call your name, sit in the table assigned. If you don't like your working partners, tough luck. Learn to get along," Professor Valorence said sternly, and held up a list and began to read.

Each row was two tables wide and four long, chairs seating up to four (preferably two or three) along each. Slytherin to the right and Griffindor to the left as it usually was, though their teacher didn't seem to remember a boundary as she called names.

"Mr. Weasley, sit between Ms. Patil and Mr. Nott, if you please, up here to the right," she indicated the desk. About to complain, the giggling Parvarti dragged him to the table and a mousy boy followed along, dragging his feet.

"Mr. Crabbe, Mr. Goyle, and Ms. Granger, behind them, if you will." The great lugs followed Hermione -who inwardly fretted what they might try-, seeing nothing else to do.

"Mr. Thomas, Ms. Brown and Ms. Bulstrode, the third back to the right." Dean was one of the few who had no qualms with sitting on the Slytherin side, and did so with his usual optimistic enthusiasm. Lavender felt like crying, and Millicent -so scarred by burns her face was almost impossible to read- only sneered.

"Mr. Malfoy, Ms. Greengrass, Mr. Finnigan, front to the left." She didn't pause to see if they followed her directions or not.

"Mr. Longbottom, Ms. Parkinson, Mr. Zabini, behind them, please." Neville was so nervous, he tripped but didn't fall thanks to Zabini's silent assistance. Parkinson giggled, then smirked, as the chubby boy -who would have whimpered the year before- glared.

Surprised, and confused, Harry Potter was the only one left standing.

Malfoy muttered something about too-good golden boys, which Professor Valorence heard. "Thank you for volunteering, Mr. Malfoy." She smiled charmingly at him, a grin the students would soon know to try and avoid.

"Huh?" said Draco intelligently, staring blankly at the substitute Defense Professor.

"Why, for offering Mr. Potter the seat next to you, of course." She continued to smile as twin looks of horror blossomed on the rivals' faces.

Harry all but gaped at his professor, loosing his voice as shock prevented speech. Draco Seemed out of sorts, a scowl gracing his features, as he glared at Professor Valorence.

The black haired teen's brilliant green eyes met his teacher's bright blue. He was unable to pull his gaze away from them, hearing vaguely her repeated words. Something in those depths, maybe the authority and wisdom there, or it might have been the flash of unrecognizable color that was gone without much conscious note, made Harry sit in his assigned seat without further complaints.

Professor Valorence surveyed the room, a smile gracing her features as she broke her staring contest with the Boy-Who-Lived."Good, good, Mr. Potter. It is nice to know that _someone_ here has no prejustice against his rival House."

That warranted many glares and startled looks at both Harry and Valorence.

"Now," their instructor began, Hermione the first ready to take notes, "turn to page 16 in your books and follow along."

Pansy raised her hand before Professor Valorence could continue. "yes, Miss Parkinson?"

"Which book, Professor? We were assigned three," she asked coolly, obviously unhappy with the presumed Muggle-born woman.

"_Beginning Rituals_ by _Micheal Clark_ was clearly marked for second semester, Miss Parkinson. _Silent Spells for Easy Targets_ by _Olivia Lingon_ is our current text. I hope everyone brought their copy." Seeing some panicked expressions, she recommended, "Share with your partner if your must, just please follow along."

Ron leaned over Theodore Nott's shoulder grudgingly, wanting to get away from the giggling and flirting Patil, after asking in a rude manner. Pavarti looked disappointed.

Professor Valorence began her lecture again, since the first lesson was only theory, and the class passed by relatively smoothly. Ron only cursed at Nott twice, and the others spoke civilly.

----

_Li _


End file.
